#i promised i wouldn't chicken out and a promise is a promise and i swear i didn't chicken out

[gerbiloftriumph]

Shiny Gold Coins, a super no stakes gen fic about markets and food and friends and all things soft and wonderful (also on ao3)

~*~

A stack of shiny gold coins—Graham’s first wages as an actual knight of Daventry, what a thought—rattled in his pocket. It was a cheerful jingle that put even more of a spring in his step than he usually had. He should send most of it home, like he’d promised he’d do with his first paycheck. But he figured his family would understand if he didn’t.

Because Daventry was holding its last farmers market of the season.

Daventry’s sheer beauty still caught him off guard, even after a handful of weeks living here and calling it home. The autumn morning practically glittered, hardly a cloud in the endless sky. It promised to get awfully hot later, summer giving one final hurrah before giving way to icy winds, but for right now it was perfect. Birds and squirrels chirped and chattered in the trees around him, and he inhaled deeply, the sweet air full of promises.

Promises of baked goods, specifically. He knew Wente had been prepping for this day for a week, his ovens hardly ever allowed to cool. He could taste sugar on the air as he neared town.

The market was supposed to be held in the town square, but the walled town had its limits, and the market had grown over the years. Booths spilled out of the open gate, lining the front entrance. Tablecloths and tents flapped in the breeze, held in place by a dizzying array of goods of all types. Crafts and foods and art and all kinds of wonderful trinkets magical and mundane.

Daventry townsfolk were freely wandering between the stalls, chatting and laughing, but Graham saw plenty of people he didn’t recognize, too—travelers from all over. People from further afield in Daventry, like Mannerly Stove, sure, but more than that. He saw some Serenian style cloaks, and he was certain that the little sunburned group over there was made of Llewdorians. According to Amaya, the market was a popular destination, and the last one of the season always drew a crowd. She especially liked it since it was one of the few times she was sure to get a customer base that could afford her wares properly.

Speaking of Amaya. Her booth was right in front of her forge. It gave off a metallic tang of oil, almost spicy, and sharp things glinted in the sunlight. At least for half of it. With geometrical precision, her table was divided in half, not one thing allowed to cross into the other half. One side was full of weaponry, and the other side…petunias.

“And they are most lovely,” Amaya said sternly when she saw him looking. Each multicolored bouquet was beautifully arranged, and not a single petal so much as shivered over the invisible line dividing her table between weapons and flowers. Not just petunias. Roses and sunflowers and all kinds of other flowers he didn’t recognize.

“From your garden?” he asked.

“I always grow a section for this. Besides, the first frost’ll be here before we know it. Better to send them off to a good home before that.”

“They grow up so fast,” Graham joked.

She chucked an acorn at him.

“How much?” he asked, ducking and laughing.

“One shiny gold coin, of course.”

Flowers would definitely make his little knight-assigned tower room look great and smell nice, and he could press and dry them after to make the winter feel brighter. He hadn’t done much to decorate yet—the pumpkin lantern was on the bedside table, and he’d pinned up his favorite rumpled map of Daventry. The map was worn soft as Triumph’s belly from repeated wear and tear, folding and unfolding, tracing his fingers along the paths he’d meant to walk, someday. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d made it, that the landscape outside his window was the same as what was printed on his paper. He’d also pinned up a little picture, an entrance form. Not his entrance form. Someone else’s. Something small, and special, and important.

He flipped a coin at Amaya, which she deftly caught, and she let him choose his favorite pot. He went for something with a ton of purple, his smile a little sadder than before as he made his selection. His fingers traced the delicate petals, and he inhaled deeply. But it wasn’t just flowers he could smell—Wente’s booth was just over there, and Graham knew where he was headed next. He held the pot in the crook of his elbow and happily wandered over, boots ringing against cobblestones.

It was a good thing his cloak had lots of pockets, he thought, as he studied trays upon trays of every baked treat he could think of, and plenty more he couldn’t. Pies, of course, and tarts, and cupcakes, and loaves of bread still steaming in the sunlight. Studded with nuts, cheese, chocolate chips, berries, and more wild things like starberries and sugarshrooms and—

“Graham!” Wente eased himself around the edge of the stall, going for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it! Is that strudel? I didn’t get to try it at the tournament.”

“Heard Princess Madeline had a sweet tooth.”

“And a good sense of vengeance for Acorn’s sake.”

“Did you know he’s here? He got a booth after all! He’s just over there!”

“Oh! That’s really good! I wasn’t sure if he would, he’d been so nervous about going for it.” Graham waved, but Acorn didn’t notice him over the crowd. He’d have to go over to say hi properly.

“Wish he hadn’t,” Chester interrupted. He’d been standing at the corner of Wente’s table, with a perfectly innocent look on his face that didn’t match the crumbs all over his tunic. “He’s doing folk art, the lowest craft you can imagine.”

“Now, Chester, you know a good piece of art can feel like a warm hug for your eyes!” Wente said. “And that’ll be a gold coin for all those muffins, thanks.”

“I can craft you a better potion that’ll actually hug your eyes,” Chester grumbled, passing over a grubby coin and shaking crumbs into the cobblestones. “None of this knitwear, how embarrassing. Come to our booth, boy, and we’ll show you some properly interesting art. Of the magical kind.”

First, Graham loaded his pockets with all kinds of treats and snacks. Wente handed over a couple soft loaves of bread that smelled of rosemary and lavender, chocolate chip cupcakes, and other berry-filled treats, asking for just a single gold coin in return. Then, with a wink, he tossed in a free walnut strudel. “Enjoy the rest of the market,” he said brightly.

“Graham!” Muriel chirped, waving him over to her stand next door. “Or, is it Sir Graham, now?”

“Yep!” Graham beamed.

“I can hardly believe it,” she said. “Seems like that tournament was only yesterday. How’s castle life treating you?”

“Really great, I’ve got my own room, and Royal Guard Number One’s been teaching me the marches, and I’ve been practicing my archery. King Edward said something about my first quest soon, I think he wants to send me up to the Cliffs of Insanity—I guess we need iocane powder for something, from the flowers there?”

“Oh, that’s for us!” Muriel said. “Some rare and miraculous ingredients are too hard for even that Merchant to get his hands on. You’ve got to send knights off on those quests sometimes.”

“What’s it for?”

“I can’t recall. Some order. I’ll have to double check what it’s supposed to make. You be careful handling those flowers, though, they can make you sick if you touch them with your bare skin.”

“I shall be cautious in all my flower picking,” he said, with a sharp salute.

“But before all that, anything you’re looking for in the market?” she asked. She spread her hands wide, showing off the table in front of her. It was littered with tiny little bottles full of interesting things, glittery potions and funny trinkets. Some glass marbles moved under their own power, spinning gently, with what looked like galaxies held in their centers. She had spell books arranged in a teetering pile, and feathers pinned under glass, and rings and necklaces that glowed even in the sunlight.

“Just looking,” Graham said. And then something caught his eye. “Oooh, what’s that?”

A little brooch sat on the table, half buried behind all the other bits and baubles and things. It was the little red gems that had caught his attention, rubies flashing in the sunlight.

“It’s a cloak pin,” she said. “You like it? It’s the same type I use for my shawl.”

“I kinda do, yeah.” He couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from it. It didn’t feel magical, exactly, but he was drawn to it, nevertheless.

“Lean over here, boy, let me pin it on.” She gestured him forward, and he leaned close. She smelled like magic and mint, and she gently gathered up some of his cloak fabric and slipped the little brooch in place. “Now, stand back, let’s get a good look at you.” He posed for her, and she laughed. “Like it was meant to be yours!”

“How much?” He fingered it, the soft rubies almost warm against his touch.

“Oh, it looks so grand on you. It doesn’t have any magic, it’s only a little thing I made a while ago. Ages ago, now I think of it. Waiting for the right person. I think I’d be honored if you wore it, Sir Graham.”

“Plus, it’s free shop advertising for us,” Chester said.

Graham insisted on a shiny gold coin, and the Hobblepots agreed, though Muriel pushed a couple tiny vials of starlight into his hands too, for the coin. “To light your path, if it gets too dark on your quest,” she said, smiling fondly at him. “It really does look like it was made for you, you know.”

“Thank you, truly.” He’d been thinking about what he wanted his knight’s uniform to look like—knights could pick what they wanted in Daventry, and he had that minor in Creative Costuming from Knight School. He thought he could work this brooch into something great. He almost couldn’t wait to get back to the castle so he could sketch out a couple ideas, but there was still more to see here.

Acorn’s booth was next. Graham remembered how nervous Acorn had been, fussing back and forth about submitting his application to be added to the roster, and apparently he’d built up enough courage—and knitted enough stuff—to make it in. At least, partly. His nerves and time must have gotten the better of him, because he hadn’t managed to fill a whole table by himself. His booth was neatly divided in half, like Amaya’s. One half was covered in soft blankets, scarves, socks, in a huge array of colors and yarns.

The other half was Whisper.

Huge copies of Whisper’s application form, sketched to silly sizes, while the true Whisper posed in front of them and offered autographs to everyone passing by, if they looked at his posters or not. He also had a little array of pots on the table in front of him, with drawings of Whisper on them. “Whisper’s deLUX hair ointment,” they read, in beautiful looping signatures.

Royal Guard Number One was standing nearby, leaning in to whisper to Whisper. He had one of the hair ointment bottles in his gauntleted hands, rotating it almost nervously. Graham couldn’t help but lean in to listen:

“And you’re certain this works on mustaches without a problem?”

“It’ll make your face hair as silky smooth as Whisper’s top hair!”

“Yes, but, you see, the last mustache shampoo I bought from the Hobblepots turned it pink. It never washed out. I had to start over. You understand why I cannot repeat that tragedy. You swear that won’t happen with this?”

“It’s animal tested!” Whisper said brightly, pointing to a little animal drawing on the side of the label.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Whisper snuck into the royal stables and washed Graham’s gerbil with it, and Graham’s gerbil did not turn pink. It did get lovely and extra fluffy, though. Mane for days. Almost as good as Whisper’s!”

Graham nodded thoughtfully. So that’s why Triumph had been so soft last week. He’d thought it was just good castle feed. He’d have to pick up a jar of that stuff for his best buddy; Triumph deserved everything after all the hard work he’d done getting them from Llewdor to here. And…yes, the tiny animal drawing was of Triumph, not of a bunny as he’d first thought. Another shiny gold coin gone: his pockets were starting to get a bit light.

“Hey, Acorn!” he said, waving.

“Graham!” Acorn looked up from the pile of scarves he was meticulously rearranging. “Hey buddy, how’s the festival?”

“Really good so far, I’ve found some really great things. How’s business?”

“Oh, y’know, surprisingly good. I didn’t think Daventry had good taste, after that sock thing in the tournament, but everyone really loves them. Aside from the pairs the castle bought, a ton of people here want them, too!”

“That’s because they’re like walking on clouds,” Graham said, repeating something Number One had said a couple weeks ago. Nearby, Number One glanced up, then turned back to his whispered conversation about hair products. “How long did all this take you?” He ran a hand along one of the blankets, the deep blue so eye catching in the sunlight. It was ridiculously soft, and he could tell it would be wonderfully warm in winter.

“Oh, not too long. I listened to my stories while knitting.”

“Stories?”

“Squirrel chatter. Good as any gossip you get from guards. Princess Madeline has seen some things, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do…but I don’t think I want to ask.”

“Well, I want to thank you for pushing me to apply for this,” Acorn said. “I wasn’t gonna, you know. But I thought, well, with the rebranding, now’s probably a great time to really show off my stuff. Get a foothold in the town, you know.”

“So, you’re staying in Daventry?”

“Yeah. I only applied for the tournament for my parents, remember? Since that fell through, I’ve got all the time in the world, and I like it here. I think I wanna settle.”

Of all the places to end up, Daventry felt like a pretty good spot. Graham had certainly been more than happy enough with his choice so far.

Graham realized he was still touching the blanket, dragging his hand back and forth across it. It reminded him of Triumph’s fur. He thought about winter, about his little tower room that overlooked the lavender fields, and he thought about how in a few months’ time the fields would be laden with snow. “Hey, Acorn, how much for this one?”

“That’s a good one! Love the color; it’s almost the same as my cloak. Turned out super great. For that one, one shiny gold coin should do it.”

“You got it, big guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Acorn said, rolling his eyes and catching Graham’s coin out of the air. “You got anything else you’re after today?”

“Not really. I’ll probably just wander around now, there’s all the little offshoot alleys. You could spend half the day here.” And he intended to do just that.

He could see vegetables, brightly colored fruit, bundles of lavender, and jars full of sweet golden honey. His coin purse was light, but his pockets had a comforting weight to them now instead, his hard-earned wages in the hands of his friends. The morning’s golden light glittered. The warming air smelled strongly of lavender, sugar, bread, and, just beneath it, that crisp autumn scent of Daventry itself. There were a couple bards wandering around now, too, strumming and singing. Someone selling sparkling apple cider was calling. All told, it was a perfect start to the day.

He fingered the brooch on his cloak again, this little piece of his new life pinned to his old life. He checked his pockets, to make sure none of the pies were getting smooshed or the bottle of shampoo was leaking or his beautiful purple flowers were wilting. He set off for another booth piled high with tapestries and books and maps, and another one filled with the last fruit of the season, and another filled with lavender products freshly made from Daventry’s fields. Ready to see everything this town had to offer him, all the things they had made and grown and built and loved. Just for him.

He could get used to living in a place like this.

[ravensmadreads]

Unhinged totally unasked for thots about Riding Pedro Boys

Authors Note: So this came from me chugging entirely too many energy drinks and then projectile vomiting in Taylors inbox. I'd like to warn you that: English isn't my first language, I have never written smut before, I'm not a real writer, and also I'm trash goblin levels of unhinged about this. That being said; Enjoy and uhh. Forgive me Fandom

JAVIER PEÑA

Javier Pena doesn't let you do it.

Don't @ me LISTEN! (YES I STARTED OFF WITH A CONTROVERSIAL THOT FUCKING BITE ME.)

That man does not have the time, or the patience, or the good sense (the sense is at the other end) to let you ride. He needs the control okay? And sometimes it's not even about the control ! It's the frustration. It piles and piles and piles until he snaps. He needs to do. He will bend you over and work his frustration away until he has had enough and you let him because he needs it. (And lets be real he makes it worth your while every single time)

BUT. When he finally fucking retires, and gets a ranch, and breaths air not tinged with the smells of death, cigarettes and guns for the first time in however many years, and maybe drinks some fucking water, he takes you out on a date. He fumbles through the entire thing, panics because he thinks he blew it, still manages to get you home, gets ridden for the first time in like 6 years, and can't walk straight for an entire day and stammers every time someone asks him why.

JAVIER GUTIERREZ

Javi G loves it. He loves watching you. Gets all puppy dog wide eyed (remember the pool scene face??? Thats it.) and you have to really focus because his look of straight up wonder and awe and bright eyed eagerness makes you want to cry. He's panting like he's running a marathon, running his big hands EVERYWHERE he can reach. He makes you feel worshipped and adored and so very very loved. Thanks you after. For being so amazing, and so wonderful to him, and thanks the universe that he found you. Cause he's sap. You definitely cry after.

JOEL MILLER

(Watch me be controversial again) Joel is fucking tired okay? He has old man bones and creaky joints and his back is achy. Patrol was agony, Jesse wouldn't shut up the entire time, and Tommy was giving him shit, and he has no energy to drill anyone into the mattress (as much as we all want him to). He's just plain tired. He likes you on top. Likes it slow (like a roast chicken on a sunday slow). Enjoys the gradual build up, likes to lean back, watch with half open eyes as you take your time. Wants to indulge in something beautiful at the end of the world, and that something is you. He makes sexy grunting noises, mutters a whole lot of praise ~and filth~ and just y'know. Savours it. 🫠🫠🫠 savours you. 🫠

DIETER BRAVO

Dieter is a maniac. (Leave him alone he has adhd!!) He can't still still for the life of him so you best believe he changes positions 6 times and the only way you're getting to ride is if you're also putting some weight elsewhere. To hold him down! You squeeze his neck once and he MELTS. INSTANTLY. Loses all sense. Starts babbling and whimpering and making extremely pathetic noises. Will definitely buck up and whine. PRAISES YOU. BEGGING. LOUD NOISES.

MAX PHILLIPS

Max is a heathen. He just likes watching you bounce. That's it. That's the post :p

MARCUS PIKE

Marcus P is a romantic. He will be doing the whole "lean forward and try to get kisses in between" while also "moaning and maintaining eye contact" and he's holding you so tight , squeezing your sides and also muttering declarations of love. About how he wants a life with you, and a family, and a home, and a future. How he's going to "make you so happy baby, I promise I will, I swear to you". Doesn't let you off for from on top of him for atleast a half hour after; kissing all over your face and rubbing your back and petting your hair "I meant all of it sweetheart. I want all of you." shsbzgwgsvsg ilovehimsomuch and I've only ever seen gifsets of this man what is wrong with me

MARCUS MORENO

Marcus M is A MENACE. He wears his stupid glasses, and has his stupid shirt off, while he does stupid taxes/meeting plans in bed. You keep throwing side glances and getting increasingly wound up and he just has this gentle smirk but he's mostly ignoring you. You sidle up to him and maybe start kissing his jaw, laying gentle pecks down his neck, and he's still fukcungh working "Baby. I need to finish this. I'm sorry, you need to wait." But that smirk is still there and it's driving you crazy and maybe you keep kissing until you reach his *coughs* and then you're working on getting him interested. You can still hear the fucking pen scratching though and so you go deeper, and he raises an eyebrow. "be good now honey" You're settling in his lap and he has you sitting there until he has finished his paperwork with you whimpering and trying not to squirm because you want to be good you really do and you know he'll make it so much better but he feels so good and when he's finally finally done you get to move but you're so wound up you can't pull yourself together enough to find a rhythm and you're nearly in tears and he has to grip your sides and murmur instructions in your ear and help you until you're satisfied and just when you think he's done, and about to flip you over, he adjusts his grip and starts moving from underneath you until you're crying and he's finished ~which doesnt happen until you've come 2 more times~

DAVE YORK

Dave. Oh my gosh Dave. Dave is a strict dom if ever there was one. With him it's a punishment. He'll tell you to hold off until he's done which is freaking impossible with how deep he gets, and how he likes to warm up his hands on your butt while you're trying desperately to hold onto that last thread of control. He is muttering absolute filth, holding your arms behind your back with one hand while the other is either laying smack after smack or rubbing you furiously all the while he's got the smuggest look. "Don't you dare baby. Be a good girl now. Listen and obey for once". But you can't because he's not fair and he knows it. And when you do finally fall apart he's clenching his teeth trying to hold back himself and his hands are holding you up as you gasp his name like it's the only word you know. He's running his hands down your back and kissing you softly and helping you catch your breath and when you finally get your heart to stop pounding and look up at him, he's watching you with this dangerously soft smile and he goes "oh you're in for it now aren't you honey?" and kisses your forehead while you try not to whimper.

FRANKIE MORALES

Frankie is a soft boy. He loves it. Craves it. He loves giving up control. Wants you to tie him up and have your way until he has no thoughts left in that pretty little head. He is swearing like an absolute sailor the entire time, calling you ma'am, begging to be released so he can kiss you and touch you, absolutely nearly breaks the head board once he was so desperate. Wants to be edged but also is the biggest WIMP about it. Will pout and swear and beg and plead but then want you to deny him again. Will definitely be mumbling absolute nonsense once you're done. Needs all the aftercare. Blushes pink when he gets it. Wraps himself around you like a HUGE koala bear after. ~and returns the edging favour 3 times over when he gets in his Captain Francisco Morales Mood~

JACK DANIELS

BONUS TWO I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT and tumblr won't let me put gifs for:

Jack makes every single cowboy joke known to man. You have to put your hand on his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. His eyes get all glassy when you do. He puts his hat on top of your head and busies himself in your neck (dual benefits: A. He shuts up and B. HICKIES) will definitely drag you on top of him in his Bronco (he likes to show off) will pull up on the side of the road almost 70% of the times you drive together. Bites you over your clothes. Loves the way you grab desperately at this leather jacket. Definitely makes you bend over and 'clean up the mess sugar' before driving like the hounds of hell are after him all the way back home and doing it all over again because "we gotta make you a mama now love"

PERO TOVAR

Pero got married after he came back and retired as a sell sword. His wife is a soft but sassy thing who's a little (read: not at all, she returns his snark twice over) intimidated by him but also thinks he's a good man because he saved her village from raiders. She has seen him grumble and snark at but then also share his food with the orphans who works at the village inn. She's inexperienced (let me live my victorian life) and he doesn't really think he deserves her but also he's not so much an idiot to say no to someone like her. She's the village "healer" and he met her when he got stabbed by one of the raiders (arm wound: not serious.) He has to teach her. She gets shy and flustered, which is a total 180 from her sassy self, and Pero loves it. She makes the most amazing sounds that have him thinking that maybe he did something right in his life to end up in her arms. She wants to please her new husband and asks her married friends for advice and they tell her about this new position. So she asks him, stuttering and tripping over words, if she could try something she heard about? From a friend? She straddles him and Pero loses his mind. He's closing his eyes and clenching his jaw so hard and she's whimpering in the most DELICIOUS way and he's trying so hard to hold back and let her take her pace and she's so worried "am I not doing it right?" Pero has to take 3 deep breaths before he's centred enough to answer and then he helps her. Puts his hands on her hips to guide her. Puts one of her hands on his shoulder "steady now pequenita" and puts the other low on her belly and presses in so she can feel him. Loves the way she cries out. Bends forward to leave little marks everywhere he can reach. She's scrambling at his chest, leaving nail marks he loves, and finally grabbing his hair and pulling until he groans. And when they're both done and sated and sweaty he kisses her, looks her in the eye and winks. "I'm going to have to go thank your friend now, mi esposa."

DIN DJARIN

Din and you dont have time. The razor crest is finally in hyperspace, you got shot at for the 50th time in 2 weeks, (because Murphys Law seems to be the only law Mando never breaks), you're exhausted, sweaty, and the giggly green monster of chaos only made you chase him down from the top of a weapons cabinet twice before he finally decided to take a nap. You're frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower, and a nap, but also you can't get the image of Mando fighting out of your head. Before you know it, the hormones have taken over and you're attacking him in the pilot seat. The bucket is off (I refuse to look at my own reflection in the tin cans helmet while we do the do), he's got you arching into him, your shirt is half torn from the top because Din refuses to wait for "so many fucking buttons Meshla" the gloved hand is squeezing the back of your neck, his mouth is on your chest, his other hand (you only managed to get one glove off) is splayed out on your back. You're riding him like you're trying to break him and his thigh holster? thing (do i look like i can figure out what they're called?) is digging marks into your skin but you're too turned on to care. It's frantic, it's messy, you're PRAYING the tiny green menace stays asleep as you do your best to muffle your sounds. The refresher isn't big enough for a round two, (you still do your best), and your legs feel like jelly, when you finally pass out; curled up on top of the human space heater while he hums Mando'a in your ear.

*****

TAGGING: @chronically-ghosted (you are a menace but ily)

@fuckyeahdindjarin (here I go trying that writing thing again, stop me pls)

[overtake]

Where vet Max’s foster dog decides to chase down a rotisserie chicken and potential boyfriend Maxiel | 2.5k

CWs: light references to past animal mistreatment re abandoned kittens or dogs with trust issues - nothing explicit and every animal is okay!!

Max has fostered exactly thirteen dogs and cared for hundreds each year at his job, but none have ever challenged him quite like FiFi.

He hadn’t picked her name, he’d told Victoria sternly when he picked up the small, fluffy monster to show her off to the camera. She’d been regaled with two straight days of stories about how his new foster dog was tearing up his apartment and barking non-stop. Clearly, she’d been expecting him to show off the same pit bulls that decorated his “successful fosters” photo wall, barrel-chested and strong enough to overpower him. They, however, have all been gentle, doe-eyed angels. FiFi, on the other hand, probably has some underground demonic breed in her, and she isn’t afraid to express it.

Max never judges any of the fosters that come to him. They've all been betrayed by humans and were scared to trust again. It’s his job to make sure they can learn to feel safe with him and the people who will eventually adopt them. FiFi, despite her small stature and general cute fluffiness, is his greatest challenge yet.

Struck out on all possible ideas to get her to stop yapping all day, Max has resorted to walking her endlessly around a nearby park and tiring her out so thoroughly that she forgets her life’s mission to rack up noise complaints for Max. She’s good with other dogs, so he's happy to let her run free in the dog park and get out all that energy.

What Max hadn’t accounted for, apparently, is that FiFi has been hiding Olympic-level pole vaulting skills. He watches in horror as FiFi escapes the small dog exclusive zone to leap right over the shorter fence and barrel toward a tan, Roman-nosed guy wearing Beats and swinging along a grocery bag without a care in the world.

“FiFi!” Max calls, swearing as he scrambles over the fence with more difficulty than she’d somehow faced. The hot guy has finally caught on to the small white fluffball at his heels and burst into a run, FiFi nipping after him the whole way.

“FiFi, come here!” Max says desperately, breaking into a run of his own. His lungs burns with the effort. For such a tiny fucking creature, she can sprint like absolute hell.

The guy rips off his headphones in terror as if to better hear FiFi’s impending attack, and Max yells out to him. “I’m so sorry! She’s not dangerous, I promise!”

The guy doesn’t slow. FiFi lets out a little yip that sounds like disagreement, and Max watches in amazement as the guy throws himself against a tree trunk and begins scrambling up the branches. When FiFi reaches the tree, she scratches at the base, wriggling her tiny body and whining when she’s not able to magically scale it - though at this point, Max wouldn't be surprised if she'd magically gained that ability.

Max finally catches up, bending over and catching his breath. He heaves in and out, failing to form words in the meantime. It takes him three tries to grab FiFi and clip the leash onto her harness.

“I’m so sorry,” he pants up to the guy, who is staring down at FiFi’s fluffy body in abject horror.

Then, when the ridiculousness of this image hits them both at once, they begin laughing in unison. Max is trying really, really hard not to make fun of the guy, but it is objectively funny to see a grown man chased up a tree by a creature Max can hold with one hand.

“It's okay,” the hot guy says, though he waits until Max has FiFi cradled against him before he shimmies his long, muscular limbs down the tree. “I guess I shouldn’t buy a rotisserie chicken and walk by a dog park. Lesson learned.”

“I hate to victim blame, but you were asking for it,” Max agrees. “I’m Max, and this demon is FiFi.”

“Daniel,” hot guy says. “And FiFi? Seriously? I’m changing her into something big and scary when I retell this story. Definitely calling her Killer or something."

“Don’t listen to him, Fi,” Max sniffs haughtily. “You’re very intimidating.”

He glances Daniel up and down, really taking him in. He’s in long athletic shorts and a big hoodie, brown curls escaping a beanie pulled low over his forehead. He’s even hotter when he’s not a sprinting blur or hidden amongst branches.

“You have leaves on you,” Max says, pointing at his own head to indicate where little twigs and branches caught on the fabric of Daniel’s hat. Daniel unsuccessfully attempts to brush them away, and Max shakes his head.

“Do you mind if I —?” he asks, and Daniel acquiesces, bending his head down for Max to gently pull at the debris. When Daniel straightens, Max catches the way he looks at Max's thighs in his too-short shorts — thank god he's been too lazy to do laundry for a pair that fit — and goes for it.

“Can I get your number?” Max tries to blink his eyelashes in a way that looks more sexy than seizure-y. He grips FiFi’s leash tightly for confidence, willing himself not to look away. Daniel smiles, taking in Max’s appearance again with an appreciative up-and-down, and Max is sure he’s about to agree.

Then, like FIFi senses that something might actually go right in Max's life for the first time since he brought her home, she lets out one short, sharp bark. Daniel’s attention redirects to where Max has her pulled tight into his chest. When his gaze flicks back to Max, his face has transformed back into something cautious and polite, and he leans back against the tree instead of curling toward Max like he was a second ago.

“I’m really flattered, but I’m not looking for anything right now." The apology is thick in his words, and he does look genuinely upset about it. “It was nice meeting you, though.”

Max doesn’t let the disappointment weigh him down too much and tries for a casual shrug. “Yeah, no problem. Sorry again about her.”

He doesn’t put FiFi down as he walks away, letting her warm body comfort him as he strokes her soft fur. “I do not think you helped my chances,” he whispers to her. She looks at him with an innocent expression, and his eyes involuntarily well up. She didn’t mean anything bad by it. She was just hungry. According to the shelter, she’s permanently nervous that someone is about to snatch food from her. He can’t be mad at that face for being traumatized and wanting food from a hot guy.

“I’ll get us chicken tonight,” he promises her. As if she can understand him, she melts into his chest instead of trying to find an escape route. For the first time, she lets him carry her the whole way home.

---

Max is on his third Red Bull of the day when Logan walks into the break room with the put-on innocent smile that means he’s about to ask Max to stay past close for some bleeding heart case because he’s too afraid to ask anyone else.

“No,” Max says before Logan can even start. “I have been here all day. There are four other vets at this practice.”

Max loves his job, truly. Getting to work with animals was always his dream. No matter how painful it can be, every time he sees a sick animal return to health because of his care, he remembers why he started this practice in the first place. 

Logan, however, is driving him insane. Outside of work hours, they get along just fine. Max had actually given him this job after Oscar at the shelter begged Max to give Logan a shot. Unfortunately, this also means Logan immediately turns to Max to take on the walk-ins who find injured dogs or stray kittens. Max may technically be in charge here, but Logan barely knows anyone else and gets too intimidated to ask them to stay late.

“It’s so easy,” Logan says, words spilling out quickly so Max can’t cut him off. “It’s just some stray kittens this guy found in a parking lot. It’ll be fleas and shots, and Oscar already agreed to help sort out a foster. They are so fuzzy, Max. The cutest little noises.”

Max bangs his head against the table once, twice, three times. “I’m not fucking kidding, Logan. This is the last time. Next time, I am dragging you in front of Lewis and telling him you’re too scared to ask him to work overtime.”

“They’re in room two,“ Logan says gratefully, then scurries out before Max can take it back.

He finishes the last dregs of his drink, tipping the sharp metal against his lips to be sure not a drop of caffeine is wasted, and puts on his most approachable face. Despite his exhaustion, it isn’t this person’s fault that Logan agreed to extending his workday.

When Max raps on the door and makes his way inside the room, he finds a ratty cardboard box, clearly having been exposed to the elements, with three mewling kittens inside. They’re young — probably two or three weeks old. Max washes his hands and pulls on gloves, not tearing his eyes away from the sweet little creatures.

“Max, right?” a voice asks. Max forces his glance up from the kittens and startles at whose fingers are protectively clutching the mangled box.

“Daniel!” he says, surprised. Hot park guy looks a bit worse for wear. He’d clearly gotten caught in the unexpected storm outside when he came across the cats. His hair is plastered against his forehead, and his clothes are clinging to him with that distinct rain-dampness.

“I didn’t know you were a vet,” Daniel says. His hands reflexively clutch the box when Max moves to take it from him, but he relaxes and entrusts the kittens to Max.

“I think we were a little too focused on FiFi not eating you to talk about jobs,” Max shrugs. He carefully examines the smallest of the three kittens. As suspected, she’s got fleas, but she looks surprisingly healthy all things considered. “Where’d you find these babies?”

“In the parking lot at that park, actually,” Daniel tells him. He’s focused on the furry body in Max’s hands, eyes unreadable but soft.

“I can’t believe you returned back to such a traumatic place,” Max jokes. He weighs each of the kittens, carefully cradling their bodies, then takes their temperatures. They couldn’t have been outside all that long. All things considered, they aren’t too underweight or cold.

Daniel laughs. “Well, FiFi maybe undid years of work getting over my fear of dogs, but that park does have the best running path. How is FiFi doing? Still terrorizing innocent guys for buying rotisserie chickens?”

Max resists all temptation to run his eyes over Daniel’s legs in their tight workout shorts and compression leggings and very, very bravely looks into his ridiculously attractive face instead.

“She’s good,” Max beams. He doesn’t want to rewash his hands, or he’d show off the photos he'd received last week of her cuddling her adoptive family. “Settling into her new house well.”

A look of horror and guilt flashes across Daniel’s face. “Oh my god. You didn’t rehome her because of me, right?”

Max rolls his eyes. “I’m literally a vet, Daniel. No, I would not dump an animal because some guy in a park was scared of her. She was a foster.”

Understanding widens Daniel’s expression, and his mouth forms a little o-shape. “So I turned you down for nothing?”

Max pauses his movements from where he was about to listen to one kitten’s tiny, thumping heart. “Sorry?”

The red on Daniel’s face is almost imperceptible, but it’s definitely there. “I don’t date guys with dogs,” he explains, wringing his hands together in slight embarrassment. “I thought FiFi was yours, so…”

Max ducks his face down to the kittens before he can let himself smile too big where Daniel might see it. “No. Definitely not mine.”

Max finishes up the exam, explaining each step to Daniel and making small talk about Daniel’s job as a music producer. Daniel’s witty and sharp, and he keeps a steady stream of conversation going, unbothered when Max has to tune him out to attend to some kitten \-related matter.

“They’re good to go,” Max announces. He gently places the last kitten back onto the fresh towel he’d pulled out and lets her curl up with her siblings. He digs out his phone to text Oscar for a foster plan, but pauses with his fingers poised over the message thread.

“Are you interested in fostering them?” he asks Daniel, gesturing to the sleeping kittens. “The shelter tends to prefer experienced fosters for such young kittens, but they’re honestly pretty healthy. We'd have to do a background check and training and all, but it's definitely an option if you want.”

Daniel eyebrows shoot up into something more panicked than when he was in the tree. “No,” he blurts out, then quickly clarifies. “I mean, they’re cute and all, but I don’t trust myself with that. Could I — would it be possible to get updates on how they’re doing though? If the foster doesn’t mind?”

Max’s heart physically expands a few sizes. Daniel’s stroking a gentle finger up and down the smallest one’s spine now that Max gave him the okay to pet them, and there’s fondness even in the uncertain, trembling touch.

“It won't be a problem,” Max assures him, mind made up in a second. He texts Oscar the update and runs through his mental list of whether he’s missing any supplies. He’s been pretty focused on dog fosters in recent years, but he should have everything he needs at home. “I’ll be their foster.”

Daniel doesn’t look up from the little bodies, but Max can still see how his face transforms, crinkles forming next to his hopeful eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Max says. He holds out his phone, a new contact entry open. “Put your number in. I’ll send you lots of photos.”

“I guess this makes sense with no FiFi around to eat them,” Daniel jokes. He’s put his name in Max’s phone just as Daniel (park). Max makes sure he sees Max deleting ‘(park)’ and adding the poodle emoji after instead, which earns him a flirty arm swat.

Daniel’s hand lingers over Max’s upper arm for a second. He has a rose tattoo down the side of his hand, Max notices. He’s never felt one way or another about tattoos, but he wonders what other ones Daniel’s hiding beneath the long sleeves and skin-tight leggings.

“So, what do I owe you?” Daniel asks after a second, clearing his throat and pulling his hand back like he only just realized it was hanging there. “Sorry, I was in a panic and left my wallet in the car, but I swear I’ll come back in to pay. You have my number now and everything.”

Max shakes his head. “You owe nothing but messaging me back to tell me how cute the cats look when I send photos.”

Daniel chews at his bottom lip. It’s still a little red where he bit at it when he asks, “Well, what about a date? It’s the least I can do.”

Max’s heart jumps and jolts, but he schools his expression into something contemplative. “I should warn you. I’m still going to foster cats, so I hope you’re not too scared of those.”

Daniel relaxes into the teasing. “I’ll learn to get used to them. After all, they can follow me up the trees, so there's no escape.”

“Maybe we should skip any rotisserie chicken for dinner just to be safe.”

Daniel winks, light-hearted but with something serious behind the words. “There's something else I’d rather have for dinner anyway.s”

---

Daniel never admits to it, but when Max finds one Polaroid missing from the wall of successful foster dogs (and three bonus entries of the foster fail kittens currently curled up in Max and Daniel’s bed), he knows the pile of ashes in the bin outside once composed a slightly demonic photo of FiFi. 

+++ Bonus brought to you by @yesloulou: this is FiFi chasing Daniel

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley just wants to make you as happy as you make him, and he hates it when you won't even let him try. But when your frustration boils over, you snap at the person you believe deserves it the most.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, swearing

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You had been foolishly holding out hope. Until your period actually began, you'd been telling yourself that maybe there was still a chance. Maybe you had just taken the pregnancy test too early. Maybe you got a false negative.

So when you woke up for work on Monday and needed a tampon, you scolded yourself for your optimism. There was no point in it, because it only made you feel worse in the long-run. 

Bradley rubbed your shoulders and kissed your neck as you put your contacts in at the bathroom vanity. You looked gross. You were bloated, and your face was broken out. You vowed to stick to a better diet until you lost some weight. 

"Morning, Baby Girl," he murmured against your ear. It wasn't even fair. You wanted him all the time. He was perfect all the time. His voice gave you chills. 

"Morning," you whispered. "My period started." Your voice shook pathetically. 

"It's okay," he promised. "It's going to be okay." 

But you really felt like it wasn't. And work was pissing you off. When you got to your lab, you remembered that you and Cat were going to be spending the day working on proposals together. Great. 

"Did you have fun at the Hard Deck?" you asked her, practically throwing your computer onto the counter next to hers. 

She looked up at you, and you could tell she wanted to roll her eyes. "It was fun," she replied. "Not really my scene, but I can see where it would be yours."

You wanted to ask her what that was supposed to mean, but you bit your tongue. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of thinking you cared about her opinion of you. And you were definitely going to have to tell Jake to get a crush on a hot looking woman who was actually nice, because you'd had just about enough of this. He had bugged you all night at the bar to introduce him to Cat again. He asked you about her all the time, but there was nothing to tell.

You took a seat and pounded away at your keyboard, working all morning while trying to ignore your cramps and your irritation with the woman next to you. Neither of you spoke a word about anything personal. It was all professional. When you noticed that it was noon, you said, "Let's take a break," in as bright a voice as you could.

Jake was waiting in the doorway for you. Or maybe he was just trying to catch a glimpse of Cat. But regardless, when you approached him, he smiled and handed you a container of soup from the cafeteria. "Angel. Let's eat in your office," he drawled. And when Cat breezed past him, he murmured, "Hi, Lieutenant Coleman."

She smirked in response, and Jake turned to watch her walk the entire way down the hall. "You're such a dog," you told him, inspecting the soup and finding it was chicken noodle. "You just need to get laid. Go to the bar tonight. There'll be a line of girls waiting for you."

He met your eyes and shook his head. "I'm not really doing that anymore."

You snorted as he followed you to your office. "Could you imagine if I agreed to go out with you? Bradley and I would have never happened after that."

Jake kicked his booted foot along your office floor before he plopped down into your extra chair. "Yeah, well... he'd have likely killed me if we went out. But, hey, you're not listening to me, Angel. Tell me more about Cat Coleman."

You sighed and ate some soup. "She's mean to me, okay? She doesn't like me."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true. She's so bitchy to me but nice to everyone else. She makes fun of the way I work. She won't eat lunch with me. She avoids me all the time. She hates me."

You swallowed another spoonful of soup, and tears immediately sprung to your eyes. You looked up at Jake, and you knew he could tell something was wrong immediately. When he jumped to his feet, you tried to wave him off, but he was kneeling next to your chair and rubbing your hand before you knew it. 

"What happened?" he asked softly. When you didn't respond, he gave you a few seconds before asking, "Do you want me to go get Rooster?"

"No," you croaked, your throat burning with the effort to talk. "I'm fine."

"You do not sound fine. You can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I'm all ears."

And he just knelt there next to you while you told him how much you hated going to your lab now. And you told him that you had your period. And then you said, "Bradley and I are trying to start a family, but it's just not happening."

"Hey," he said, letting you cry it out. "You and Bradley are already a family. Plus, you've got Tramp. And Nat and I are like siblings you guys never even wanted."

You kind of shrugged at him. "It's not the same thing."

"I know that, but sometimes it takes time," he told you.

"It's been four months," you whispered. 

Jake stood up and pulled you to your feet, and then he wrapped you in a hug so tight, his name tag was digging into your collarbone. "Just give it some time. You want me to talk to Rooster?"

"No. Let's just finish eating lunch."

-----------------------

Bradley had been trying all week. Kissing along your neck and rubbing your hips through your khakis while you made dinner. But you finally snapped at him on Wednesday night when you were trying to cut up some sun dried tomatoes for the Marry Me Rooster he had requested. 

"I'm trying to cook dinner, Bradley. Yes, I realize you're trying to get me in the mood. Yes, I can feel your erection. No, I don't want to have sex. I look gross, and I feel gross." You set down your knife and turned to face him. He had taken one huge step away from you, and now he was looking at you with the saddest brown eyes. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair as he walked down the hallway toward your bedroom. 

"Shit," you whispered as you rushed after him. "I'm sorry."

He was standing next to the bed unbuttoning his uniform shirt when you walked in and headed right for him. But he didn't say anything, just yanked his shirt off and tossed it onto the bed. The sight of him in his khaki pants and black undershirt had you sucking in a deep breath. It wasn't that you didn't want him. You just didn't even want yourself right now.

"Bradley," you whispered. 

"Nah. I'm going to go workout in the garage," he told you, stripping out of his pants and digging in a drawer for some gym shorts. "I'll eat later. Don't wait for me."

You watched him walk back out of the room. Then he called for Tramp, and you heard the sliding glass door open and then close. You went back to the kitchen and finished making dinner. You had to fight the urge to go out to the garage and get Bradley, because somehow you knew you'd just end up making things worse. You made him a beautiful plate of dinner and left it on the island. And then you got yourself ready for bed. You were no longer hungry. 

------------------------

Bradley was stressing out. He could feel his composure crumbling as every maneuver he performed in the air was wrong. Everything felt wrong. It was like he and his Super Hornet were out of sync. Like he couldn't trust himself. 

"What are you doing, Rooster?" Phoenix asked him through the comms. But Bradley didn't even know how to respond, because he hadn't been paying attention. He was distracted. He was never like this in the air. 

And then he heard Maverick call his team back to the ground, and he knew it was his fault. He wished he could take all of the pushups for Phoenix and Bob as well, but it was a team effort after all. So Bradley had to try to keep calm while he could feel them glaring at him through all two hundred pushups.

He had been like this all week. Nothing made as much sense to him as flying did. Well, other than you. But things had been a little rough and unpredictable at home. He wasn't really trying to do it, but he had begun to memorize when you were ovulating and when your period was due. Fucking you was no chore, but he was absolutely ready for you to miss a period. He was obsessed with the idea of you showing him a positive pregnancy test. But it just... wasn't happening yet.

And now he was putting pressure on himself. Because he knew he was a ticking time bomb. He felt it in his bones. Any day now, he would be getting deployment papers. And then you would be alone for who knows how long. Weeks or months. Bradley would be on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean, and you would be at home, worrying about him. And the mission to make a baby would be put on hold, replaced by a different kind of mission.

The thing was, all of this was bothering him a hell of a lot more now, because it was bothering you so much. 

Bradley slammed his locker closed only to find Jake standing there. "You better pull it together, Bradshaw," he said so calmly that it pissed Bradley off even more. "Or you're going to get grounded."

"Do you think I don't know that?" Bradley asked, getting in his face. "Do you think I don't know I'm flying like shit right now?"

But Jake didn't move an inch, and his expression didn't change. "I think whatever is bothering you... well, you should take it home to your wife. Angel will help you feel better."

Bradley took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning against his locker with his fist clenched. "She's part of the fucking problem," Bradley growled, and he watched Jake's eyes grow wide. 

Jake gaped at him before he said, "I can't think of a single time you've ever said something like that about her." His feelings seemed to be hurt on your behalf, but Bradley didn't know how to explain how he felt. 

"When she puts pressure on herself, all I want is to relieve it for her," he told Jake softly, trying to unclench his fist. "But I can't. She won't let me."

Jake sighed. "I think I know what it's about. She's been pretty upset. Tried to tell her it's not her fault, but I can tell she's blaming herself."

Bradley could feel his cheeks flushing. You and Jake were close. The other man probably did know some details about your intimate moments with Bradley which was kind of mortifying. However, Bradley would never want you to feel like you couldn't confide in someone you trusted. It was just hard to gasp that Jake was oftentimes that person for you. 

"We just want to have a baby," Bradley growled. 

"It's only been a few months," Jake reminded him. "Deep down, Angel knows it takes time."

Bradley looked up at the flickering fluorescent bulb. "Sometimes I feel like I'm never doing enough for her," he whispered, grabbing his bag and brushing past Jake. 

But he almost ran into Payback on his way out. "What are you still doing here, man?" he asked with a grin. "If I had a girl as hot as your wife, I'd be home by now, pumping her full of babies."

The urge to punch his friend directly in the face was so strong, Bradley had to bite his lip and keep moving. He needed to get home to you but not take this out on you. That would be unacceptable. Because while you were adding to his stress, he would never tell you that. 

You were already home when he walked inside, and Bradley had to try to fight for composure. "Hi," he managed to say. Of course you looked impossibly cute, laying with Tramp on the couch in Bradley's oversized UVA tee and a pair of his boxer briefs. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep his hands off you right now, but you'd been distant with him for more than a week. 

"How was your day?" you asked him softly.

Somehow your sweet voice just made him angry. Your voice and your gorgeous face and the way he could see your nipples through the shirt. And Bradley couldn't help himself. His voice was rough to his own ears, and he sounded mad. "My day fucking sucked. It was terrible," he growled. "I flew like an asshole. I got everyone assigned to pushups. I was so distracted from work, thinking about you."

Your eyes were wide as you sat up. "Thinking about me?" Tramp jumped to the floor and ran over to sniff at Bradley's boots as he untied them. 

"Yeah," he grunted, wrestling out of his flight suit and tossing it to a heap on the floor. His skin felt too hot. He needed to go for a run or lift weights. "I told you I think about you all the damn time. And today, trust me, I wish I hadn't been."

"What does that mean?" you asked him, standing up between the couch and the coffee table, your lips forming a little pout. 

Bradley yanked his undershirt off as well, standing just inside the front door in only his compression shorts and his socks. "It means I'm mad because you won't let me try to make you feel better! You don't even want to talk to me, but you'll talk to Jake! I'm fucking pissed that you're skipping meals and ditching me for lunch every day!"

Bradley took off toward the bedroom, leaving you behind. He was afraid of what else he was going to say if he didn't get some space to himself right now. And the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. But when he got into the bedroom to get some workout clothes, you followed him. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, biting your lip and looking at him with wide eyes.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked loudly, slamming his drawer shut instead of actually pulling anything out of it. "Tell me."

"I'm sorry I've been shutting you out, Roo." You took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry I haven't been eating lunch with you. I know we can keep trying, but when I get my period now, I panic."

"You panic and talk to Jake," Bradley growled. When you simply nodded, his blood boiled. He knew he was red in the face as he closed the distance to you. The words were there before he could take them back. "If you want to talk to Jake all the time, maybe you should have married him."

Your lips parted soundlessly, and then you moaned. A needy sound, from the back of your throat. One that had Bradley's cock stirring immediately. 

"I don't want him. I've never wanted him. I just want you."

"Do you want me right now, Baby Girl? Because I wanna fuck you right here," he said as calmly as he could, but his voice was still gruff and unsteady. "You're going to have to tell me to go out back to the garage if you want me to keep my hands to myself. Okay? Because I want my wife. But I will settle for my hand and then the bench press if you don't want me back."

You whimpered, reaching for the hem of the tee shirt and guiding it up over your hips. "I am so turned on," you whispered. "Please."

"Please what?" Bradley demanded, running his hand along his cock through his shorts. 

"Daddy," you gasped in shock. Like you couldn't even believe you said it to him. Like you needed him as badly as he needed you. "Fuck me."

"Baby Girl," he whispered harshly as he pressed himself against you.

You yanked the shirt over your head and pulled his boxer briefs down over your delicious hips as you moaned, "I want my husband."

His cock was fully at attention now as he stroked your dainty Rooster tattoo with his fingertips. "I'm right here," he growled, watching you step out of his underwear and kick them aside. Your eyes were wide and fixed on his as you stood naked before him. "You gonna let me take care of you?"

"Yes," you gasped when he moved his hand to your pussy. "Are you still angry, Daddy? From your bad day?"

Bradley raised one eyebrow. He knew how he sounded. He knew he was breathing heavily. He also felt how fucking wet you were as he slid his middle finger along your slit. 

"Do you want me to be?" he asked before placing a rough kiss to your lips. 

"Yes," you moaned, and in one swift movement, Bradley had the front of your body pressed up against the wall next to the bedroom door. You squealed and braced yourself with both hands as he gently kicked your legs a little further apart. 

"You like making me this way?" he growled next to your ear before sucking hard on your neck. "I think you do."

Bradley reached his hands up to squeeze your tits as you whined his name. He stroked your nipples softly with his thumbs while he sucked on your neck some more. 

Then he took his cock in his right hand and guided himself to your opening. He filled you in one swift motion, and started fucking you so hard, your face almost hit the wall. He caught you with his hand on your jaw as you whimpered for him. 

"You think it's fun to get me all pissed off at work?" he asked, low and soft. "You love having so much control over me, don't you?"

"I do," you whispered as he turned your face so you were looking at him over your shoulder. 

"You love knowing I think about your voice during lectures. Think about your body when I'm flying. I can't stop thinking about how much I love fucking you," he said, his voice getting louder as he pressed his forehead against your perfect cheek and brushed his fingers over your tattoo before stroking your clit.

You cried out for him. "I do, Daddy! I love it!"

Bradley was determined to get you off. He wouldn't have a repeat of the dining room floor. Not today. He went a little harder, a little deeper. He listened to the incoherent words tumbling out of your mouth. And then he said, "Try and find someone better than me. Someone else who can fuck you this good. You can't."

"No!" you grunted, your fingers bending, nails digging into the wall. You were struggling to look at him as your eyes fluttered closed. 

He kissed along your jaw before ending at your ear and whispering, "I love you." And then he felt it. That beautiful clench of your pussy as you came for him. He knew the feel of you so well. He wanted to take care of everything for you. He needed to give you everything you wanted. Be everything you needed. 

He came for you too, hands drifting to your hips as his movements slowed. You were unsteady on your feet as you turned to face him. Bradley's cum was dripping down your legs and onto the floor as you reached for him. Then you were in his arms, kissing him just right with your fingers in his hair. And he couldn't remember why he'd been upset in the first place. 

"I love you," you whispered against his lips. Bradley stumbled back onto the bed with you wrapped up with him. When he fell back with you on top of him, you laughed. 

"Come here," he coaxed, and you straddled his waist and kissed him until your lips were puffy. When he tried to move, you held him down and kissed him some more. He felt himself relax completely with every little sound you made and every swipe of your tongue against his. 

"Roo," you crooned, your lips moving to his neck and kissing him softly there.

He groaned and started to sit up. "What's it called when the foreplay comes after sex?"

You giggled. "Post play?"

"Shit, Sweetheart," he said, letting you keep going with your lips. "You want more?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed against his skin, setting his nerve endings ablaze. 

"Give me a minute, and I'll take care of you again."

--------------------

You were sore on Monday morning. In the best kind of way. You and Bradley had spent the weekend talking and having sex. And then having more sex. Only taking a break to go grocery shopping and swing by the Hard Deck. Jake knew right away that you were both feeling much better. He was always so patient with you that you found it hard not to smile when he bought you and Bradley beers. 

You needed to be more open with Bradley. And you would be. And starting today, you'd meet him and Nat in the cafeteria unless you really were honestly working through lunch instead of hiding in your office. You just needed to get through your morning with Cat. Which was easier said than done.

She gave you short answers to every question. When you asked her to type up some of the notes you wrote, she looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Shouldn't you have typed this up yourself?"

You sighed. "I worked it up over the weekend. In my free time. I read it to my husband as I wrote it, and it seemed to flow easier when I wrote it."

She scrutinized your notebook. "Well I can barely read it. I'll work in the code while you type it up. I'm better at the code anyway."

Was she implying she was better at coding than typing? Or that she was better at coding than you were? She made you so mad. The next time Jake mentioned how beautiful her eyes were, you were going to pummel him. 

Everyone else had already deserted the lab when you realized what time it was. "Should we take a lunch break?" you asked, scrambling to lock up your computer. Bradley and the others were probably waiting for you already. You did not want to disappoint him today. Not after such a perfect weekend. 

"Fine," Cat agreed. Her tone was short, like you were throwing off her entire day by deciding to take lunch at lunchtime. 

You squared your shoulders and turned to face her as she stood up. Then you blurted out, "I don't understand what I did to make you dislike me."

Cat froze in place, her eyes appraising your face. You felt the prickle of embarrassment along your skin, and you were afraid she was going to laugh in your face. But she just shook her head slowly. "I don't dislike you."

"Yes, you do," you scoffed, your embarrassment swiftly replaced with annoyance. 

"No, Lieutenant Commander. I do not," she said, firmly closing her computer. Then she went off, and you didn't stop her. "But your life is so perfect, it's honestly hard for me to relate to you. Even at work. Your husband dotes on you. He's always in the lab, bringing you snacks and asking you about your day. You've got Seresin in here all the time, too. And you're the golden child. Bickel sings your praises at the meetings every week."

Your eyes were bugging out. "But, that's not-"

She cut you off and kept going. "You and I both have the same master's degree, but I'm a year older than you, and you outrank me." Her voice sounded bitter as she said, "I'm a single mom. My life is a mess. I'm broke. We live with my uncle. I feel like a joke all the time. But your life is perfect. And trust me, I wish more than anyone else that I wasn't jealous of you." 

You stood completely still and watched her walk out of the lab and disappear down the hallway. Your life was not perfect. The fact that it maybe looked that way to someone else shocked you. Cat thought she was a mess. Well, you were a mess, too. But she was a mom. 

A moment later, you followed her down the hallway toward the cafeteria where Bradley was waiting for you with a smile on his face and a bottle of your favorite hot sauce on his tray.

-------------------------

Oh. Cat's a little jelly of BG. Well, Cat... BG just might be a little jelly of you. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

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@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

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@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

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@tallyovie

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@ccbb2222

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@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[thewalkingthread]

you're losing me - R.G.

part 2

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: officer friendly gets too friendly with a certain blonde haired woman

warning: cheater!rick, swearing, kinda sad, established relationship, not a happy ending

a/n: idk man, hope you like it

word count: 1,991

"It's already dead, ya know? Don't have to keep stabbing it." Daryl grunted as he dropped his plate of food on the table, sitting in the empty spot of the wooden picnic table next to you.

You glanced down at your food, multiple holes littered the piece of meat from you stabbing it with your fork. You sighed, dropping the fork on the plate and rubbing your clammy hands on your jeans.

Your eyes landed back on the two people a few yards away. They've been laughing and talking for the past 20 minutes. Not a care in the world. You couldn't hear what they were saying, the chatter and noise of the picnic party drowning out their conversation. It didn't matter though, seeing their interactions told you enough. Some people would say they looked quite good together. Except, the only problem is, the man was your boyfriend.

"He ain't gonna do nothing with er." Daryl's eyes followed yours. You roll your eyes, your hands tightening in a fist.

It's been 5 months since the group arrived to Alexandria and you had a bad feeling about Jessie the moment you saw her.

The first day you arrived, you and Rick took a much needed shower together. While you opted to unpack the little stuff you guys had, Rick was downstairs getting a haircut from Jessie.

You walked into the kitchen, surprised that you had a guest. You were even more surprised to find Rick shirtless, sitting in a chair while this woman runs her hand through his hair.

"Wouldn't be too sure." You muttered back, forcing yourself to look down at your plate.

Daryl grunts beside you, giving you a nudge. "Rick's done a lot of stupid shit, but I don't think he's dumb enough to fuck things up with you. If he does, it's his loss, anyway."

Daryl's words are supposed to be comforting, but it does the exact opposite. Was it a possibility that Rick would betray you like that?

You glanced back up at the two again. Jessie threw her head back in laughter as her hand lands on his chest, slapping him playfully. Ever since Rick killed her husband, the two of them have been awfully close.

Everyone has noticed. You don't miss the passing glances and sorry looks on peoples faces whenever they pass you. You know what they're thinking. You'd be thinking the same thing if you were in their shoes.

Something changed the night Rick killed Pete. Not just for Alexandria but for the two of you as well.

It didn't happen all at once. It was gradual. Rick was slowly pulling away, he probably didn't even realize it. But you did. You remember every time he'd come home later than promised. You remember every time he told you one thing and then ended up changing his story later. You remember every time he'd slip out of bed in the middle of the night and sneak back in an hour or so later.

You weren't sure if Rick was cheating on you with Jessie, but you were pretty confident that your relationship was going downhill. It wasn't a matter of if you would break up, it was, when.

"Y'know," You turn your head towards Daryl as he interrupts your thoughts once again. "You could always just tell er to fuck off." He shrugs, bringing the chicken leg up to his mouth.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching as Jessie's hand grazed Rick's bicep. You huff, standing from the picnic table.

"Atta girl," Daryl slaps the table with his hand as you toss your plate into the trash on the walk towards Rick and Jessie.

Jessie's attention turns to you as you approach the two. Rick smiles at you, holding his arm out for you. You smile, sliding into his body, naturally melting against him.

"Hey, darlin." He mumbles, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Hi," You sigh. "Is it okay if I steal my boyfriend?" You give Jessie a tight lipped smile, tugging on Rick to follow you before she could even respond.

Rick chuckled lightly as you both walked away. "Everything alright, darlin?" He asked.

You shake your head. "Can't say I enjoy other women fondling my boyfriend." You grumble.

Rick stops you both in place. His hands settle at your shoulders as he holds you still to look at him. "She was not fondling me." He rolls his eyes slightly.

"Whatever you say, Rick. Everyone can see the way you two act. Have me out here looking like a damn fool." You roll your eyes.

"How many times are we gonna have to talk about this?" His eyes glared down at you.

"Well, how long are you going to keep flirting back and forth with her?" You scoff.

Rick's jaw clenches tightly as he stares at you. This wasn't the first argument you've had about this topic. You've definitely brought up your distaste to Rick about his lady friend.

"You're being insecure and ridiculous." Rick drops his hands. "If you don't trust me, just say it."

Your eyes widened at his choice of words. You gulped the saliva that built in your mouth. "Fine," You throw your hands up before locking eyes with him. "I don't trust you. Until you can prove to me that I can, I don't want anything to do with you. Feel free to go back to your little friend." You shoot him a glare.

"Fine!" He glares right back. Your jaw clenches as he steps back from you, not really expecting him to respond that way.

"Fine," The word came out as a whisper to yourself as you watched him walk back towards Jessie who was now talking with Maggie and Carol.

You willed yourself to turn around, heading straight towards your shared house. You slam the door shut, locking it behind you before pacing the living room a few times.

There's been several times when your relationship with Rick has been rocky. There have been times where things were said out of anger and the heat of the moment. There's been times when you questioned the future of your relationship.

But it was never like this. Never this... definite.

You spend the next several hours deep cleaning the entire house, doing anything to try to get your mind off of Rick. You hadn't realized how late it was till Carl strolled in with Judith.

"Hey, Y/N!" He nods his head. "What's for dinner?" He looks around the spotless kitchen, noticing there's no food set out.

"Oh shit-" You mumble, looking at the time on the clock. "I'll throw something together..." You pull open the fridge, getting ingredients for a simple pasta dish.

"Hey, uh-" You glance at Carl. "Have you seen your dad anywhere?" You ask, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Carls shakes his head with a shrug, putting Judith on the ground to play. "Not since the picnic. Why? Is everything okay?"

Nope. Not at all.

You force a smile on your face and nod. "Yeah, everything's fine. He just hasn't come home since then. Sure he'll be home soon for dinner."

He wasn't home for dinner.

He wasn't home to say goodnight to the kids.

You let out a deep sigh looking at the clock one more time.

It was almost 9:30 now and he still hadn't come back.

You weren't eager to see him but you knew you both had things to talk about. In defeat, you grabbed a jacket and pulled on your shoes.

You checked on Judith one more time before slipping out of the house to find Rick. You checked the gate first, thinking he'd taken an extra shift on watch just to avoid coming home. When he wasn't there you checked each post on the perimeter, coming up empty.

Eventually you just wandered the streets aimlessly.

You stopped in front of Jessie's house. The lights were all off. Surely he wasn't in there, right? Your eyes landed on the open garage, light spilling from it.

Jessie was probably up working on some art, it wouldn't be the first time. You contemplate going up and asking her if she'd seen Rick recently, but something about doing that just felt so pathetic.

You mustered up the last bits of pride you had left and made your way up the driveway. You were immediately stopped in your tracks when you catch sight of Jessie.

And Rick.

Kissing.

Jessie's arms were slung around Rick's neck while his were gripping either side of her hips. Gripping.

Your entire world shatters at the sight.

The gasp that leaves your mouth was automatic and sharp.

Rick pulls away first at the sound. Even if he didn't know it was you, he knew he was caught.

His eyes go from panic to regret the second they lock onto yours.

"Y-Y/N," He lets go of Jessie, taking two steps towards you.

You stumble back, your eyes moving between the two. Jessie is staring at you with wide eyes, unsure what to do. Rick kept taking steps towards you, matching the steps you took back.

You shook your head, turning away from them and sprinting the opposite direction. You didn't stop sprinting till his calls for you faded to nothing.

There wasn't many places you could run to while confined in the walls, but you couldn't be near him right now. You couldn't go home. You just needed to be alone.

You stopped at the windmill, sneaking to the back and sliding against the wall to the ground. The moment you stopped to catch your breathe, you let the tears fall from your eyes.

Even with how bad things with Rick have been, you didn't think he'd ever betray you like this. The thought of him cheating on you crossed your mind once but you convinced yourself that he was a good man and he would never hurt you like that.

You were wrong.

You wanted to slam your head against the wall. Anything to distract your from the pain in your chest.

The sound of his boots thumping against the dirt met your ears. You didn't take your face out of your hands when you heard them stop only a few feet away from you. You didn't bother looking up even when you could feel him there. You could feel his eyes burning into the top of your head.

"I'm sorry," He said simply.

You almost wanted to laugh.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry."

You drop your hands, looking at his dirty boots in front of you. He crouches down in front of you, hoping to get your attention.

"I just want to know why," Your tired eyes land on his. Rick's mouth opens to speak before he shuts it again, trying to muster up an answer.

Rick sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know." He admitted.

"How long?" You raised an eyebrow at him, doing your best to stop your voice from cracking, but the quiver was there.

"That was the first time. I swear." His hands grab onto yours and it feels like fire on your skin. You yank your hands away, causing him to flinch. "I swear on my life, baby-"

"Don't." You spit out, "You don't get to call me that ever again." You pick yourself off the ground. "I really hope she's worth it, Rick. I hope she's worth losing us over." You sniffle the last of the snot in your nose, stepping to the side to escape Rick.

You were a few strides away when his voice broke through the air.

"It felt like I was losing you... I didn't know wha-"

I didn't know what to do.

Your eyes rolled so badly, they could've fell right out of your head. You spin around to face him once more. His face hidden in the shadows, only half of his face lit by the street lantern.

"Didn't know cheating was a valid reaction to that." You scoff, "Congratulations. You've officially lost me." You call out before walking away from Rick.

[vivgst]

COD Headcanons

I mean they're not hc it's just shit I think they say/do but I needed the title okay?

As I previously said this is just my silly little opinion, I would love to read yours but don't take this too personal and I'm saying this cause Imma bout to write SHIT about two characters and I'm scared cause they're loved by the whole fandom.

Okay thats all thanks<3333

Let's start with my favorite piece of shit, shall we?

Alejandro Vargas

I don't care what yall say this man is a CHEATER and he would make you feel guilty about it too because you're not "meeting his needs".

“I’m not sexist???? We cannot do the same things, it's basic biology!”

Maybe he's good in bed, let's give him that.

Alain meza said he loved Rudy so let's assume he's bi, uh... he wouldn't admit that shit, not in a million years, probably would get offended if you even dare to suggest it.

He doesn’t argue to fix things, he argues to repeat how much in the right he is, I feel like he NEVER admits he’s in the wrong, he seems very stubborn.

Now can we address that fucking temper of his? Breathe mf, no ones gonna die if you stop yelling for a second.

I feel like he must’ve had A LOT of trouble when he just joined the army because of his anger issues, think about it for a moment: someone with a higher rank yelling at him and you think he just took it? I doubt it.

MUST HAVE fought with Valeria more than once cause that temper of hers is just as shitty.

I promise I don’t hate him, well I do but he’s one of my favs, I don’t know how to explain this bye.

Simon Riley

He’s very chill I love him <3

I think of him like a very nostalgic man, he thinks a lot about his past, past lovers, past experiences, when he was new in the army, you know? Not in a “I’m still traumatized” way, he’s just nostalgic.

He’s absent minded, he’s always daydreaming (when he’s not doing something important ofc).

Thin and I don’t fucking care, THAT MAN IS THIN, you can even see it sometimes!!!! He’s got chicken legs, I love them.

He really seems to enjoy dad jokes.

He cares a lot about his teammates and I love it, it’s very cute.

Can we talk about how everyone put him as a fucking beast in bed? I don't see it, I think he's ruthless when he needs to but I don't think this applies when it comes to sex, he suffered a lot too and sadly I know too well that sex is pretty fucking terrible after rape, especially because you feel like you're gonna hurt the person you're having sex with so...

John MacTavish

Typa guy everyone loves, even your dad and your grandma's always saying how handsome he is.

Maybe he was bullied bc of his accent but he just told them to go fuck themselves.

Caring and loving, buys his partner flowers and their favorite candy/chocolates/desserts.

Remembers anniversaries, birthdays, medical or school appointments.

Too charismatic and funny.

Kyle Garrick

He’s too good for his own good… I feel like he always end up going out with INSANE people, the jealous type, they’re always bitching and making him angry and stressed but he forgives them cause he’s an angel.

Very sweet, loves cooking for people he loves.

Kinda family oriented.

He smells good, I can almost smell his perfumeeeeee he smells good, he spends MONEY on it too.

Even the devil is afraid of him when he’s mad.

I think he's very private about his life in general, doesn't like to vent his problems.

Hot lover.

John Price

Now this man is a FATHER, my fucking dad I swear.

He seems pretty conservative to me, not in a bad way like he wants you to be his personal maid and slave, more like he wants to date to marry, hates casual sex.

Loves whiskey.

Dad energy, he would be so caring and loving with his child, he would give that baby the moon.

I don’t think he would love to date a younger woman, not a woman in her twenties at least, I think he would be into women his age.

If you feel disappointment by that, maybe you could try fixing your relationship with your dad, sweetheart ;).

Hates confrontation and loves to work things out.

Let’s not talk about how sex with be with the old man, okay? Thanks.

He's not that old, I get that but he looks like he's fucking 68.

Phillip Graves

He looks kinda daddy in that pic, not gonna lie.

“How come you don’t want to have sex? What about me? Have you thought about how that makes me feel? If your head hurts, sex would help but you never consider me, I’ll sleep in the couch”.

A selfish, self-centered bitch, only thinks about himself.

Feeling good having sex with him? Aw baby, try again cause this mf would use you like a damn toy and he couldn’t care less about your feelings or how much pain you’re in.

Cheater, he wouldn’t even be quiet about it. “Oh you want to divorce me? And where are you gonna go, sugar? You’re nothing without me”.

Doesn’t fucking know where the clit is, he doesn’t have a fucking clue.

Of course straight, loves to be white and American.

“Of course I can say whatever I want, I’m from America I have freedom of speech”.

Fuck you graves.

Rodolfo Parra

Perfect.

He seems so sweet and kind and considerate I love him.

Smart as hell, probably got the best grades when he was a kid.

Doesn’t hate anyone, no one hates him.

Loves nature and animals but he can’t enjoy it too much cause he is always busy.

Dreams about having a big family and a dog (a golden, probably).

Forget about having rough sex UNLESS he’s mad (fr mad like losing his shit but that doesn’t happen frequently).

Could be a teacher if he wasn’t in the army, he’s very patient and can explain things easily.

Have a pretty smile.

Valeria Garza aka MAMI

Feels like she needs to prove something, she was underestimated for so long in the army that now she’s always trying to prove to herself how badass and good at her job she is.

Almost no one knows the real Valeria, her favorite things, music taste, if she prefers cold or hot, coffee or tea etc.

She hates cold weather with all her MIGHT.

Likes to smoke only when she’s stressed.

Likes animals but thinks they’re so much work and she doesn’t have the time.

Did drugs once and hated it.

Feels guilty when she spots a church but she WOULD NEVER admit this shit to anyone.

Used to the worst of life so she didn’t like when someone is kind with her, is like “tf am I supposed to do with it???” but she gets used to it eventually.

I don’t think she has anger issues but def she doesn’t fucking know how to regulate her emotions, she lets stress take over her.

She would love a narcowife, kind of woman who wears a lot of beachy dresses and have a shitty personality like her (like Kate del Castillo in La Reina del Sur or in Bad Boys, exactly that kind of narcowife) (I’m kinda projecting, sorry lol).

I can’t picture her with a sweet girl and I think a sweet girl wouldn’t be able to handle that woman.

She keeps arguing even though she realized she’s in the wrong.

She wouldn't be able to spend a lot of time with her S.O, she's such a workaholic.

I don't think she likes to wear men clothes.

I don't think she hates kids but I can't picture her with kids.

Wouldn't divorce once she's married.

Btw I didn’t want to make this too sexual bc lately this fandom is full of just that, too much smut, too much violence and rape in the smut and it’s so graphic that I feel I’m watching instead of reading wtf, its uncomfortable and I honestly can’t picture the characters being that violent and vile.

As I said in my previous hcs… these guys are surrounded by violence, stress and blood every day, I personally don’t think they wanna get home to torture their partners (well, maybe graves cause he is a piece of shit that mf. Okay kidding, not even Graves is that much of a bastard).

[tinytalkingtina]

The True Face of Bravery

Written for the @steddiemicrofic June challenge prompt, using the word "stuff" and max 483 words.

483 words | Rating: T (for a single swear word)

Tags: Fantasy DnD AU, Tiefling Steve Harrington, Anti-Tiefling racism, Steve Harrington has bad parents, implied child abuse, first kiss

Ao3 link

"'Mi'lord', your squire is whining he can't find your club, the one with the spikes and-um." Eddie froze with his hands still on the tent flap, staring at Steve. And surely this was Steve, he had the same facial features and clothes as Stephen Harrington, heir to the Barony of Loch Nora and paladin extraordinaire. Except Stephen Harrington didn't have luminous red skin, or a pair of horns that spiraled up out of his hair and curved back over themselves just above his ears. And he certainly didn't normally have a pointed tail poking out from his trousers. Before Eddie could even begin to think of retreating, he found himself roughly yanked inside the tent. “Wait!” Eddie flailed, wrenching himself out of Steve's grasp. “Please don't kill me! As fitting as it would be for Eddie the Banished to die at the hand of a noble I really would rather it not happen today, I promise I can keep my mouth shut and—“ Eddie stopped babbling as he took in how badly Steve was trembling. Weaponless, he had only moved to block the tent flap. Steve lifted a shaking hand to his nose. "Father was right, it was always going to come down to an act of stupidity on my part. Just, let me finish this mission, please." Eddie blinked, still wrapping his head around his companion’s true appearance. "What?" "Vecna is a blight on these lands. Even if the Order is going to expel me once they know, I swore an oath to slay him. I'm asking that you wait to turn me in until we're done. I promise, I'll go quietly." "Why would I turn you in?" Steve's tail twitched when he was anxious. "Have you somehow missed that I'm the shameful reminder of my ancestor's wrongdoings?” he said, clearly mimicking something he had been told many times over. Eddie took a tentative step forward. "And what makes you think I give a flying fuck what stuff society or your Order believes? Sweetheart, I'm just impressed you've managed to hide yourself for this long." "As a child my parents wouldn't let me leave my chambers until I could cast illusion magic." Steve whispered. "But why—” "You're kind of the ideal paladin, you know?" Eddie barreled on. "Always throwing yourself headlong into danger to protect others. You're kind and funny and," he blushed, "absolutely breathtaking. If those abyssal chickens hadn't broken my lute, I would immediately start composing something about the swirl of your horns." "You would...oh." Red hands with black-tipped claws reached out to gently encircle his waist. Eddie shyly reached up to tuck a loose lock of Steve's hair behind one of his horns. "Come on, let's get some rest. You have an undead lich to slay tomorrow, Sir Stephen the Brave,” he said softly. The equally soft kiss he received in response spoke of something much longer than tomorrow.

Some tidbits of trivia/more babbling about this AU under the cut!

I've had an idea for a DnD AU for a long time, featuring members of the nobility Harringtons who made a deal with a devil in exchange for power and wealth. When their first-born son was a born a tiefling, to hide their shame, they at first kept him hidden from view, then, once he learned magic, forced him to constantly cast disguise self to appear human.

As a paladin, he is driven to helping those in need, but doesn't like anyone touching his hair (they'll feel his horns under the illusion magic) hence his nickname "the Hair". Dustin is an artificer gnome, his loyal if mouthy squire, while Eddie is a half elf bard who doesn't initially like "Mr goody two shoes shining knight".

Vecna is a literal undead evil lich causing trouble from his own pocket dimension, dubbed "The Upside Down".

Also Abyssal chickens are in fact a real DnD monster and they are adorably terrifying.

[hotpinkboots]

You should do a fic where reader is like a female version of Sweeney Todd or sm and mrs.lovett is like obsessed with them

:)

~~~~~

~𝓜𝓻𝓼. 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓽𝓽 x Fem!Sweeney!Reader~

(Headcanons + Mini-Oneshot(s))

SWEENEY TODD BUT LESBIANS? YES.

Note(s): Female Reader, it is mentioned that the Reader likes to sketch, "(L/N)" stands for "Last Name", I occasionally switched between using "Nellie" and "Mrs. Lovett" to keep it fresh, Reader overall has Sweeney's personality and backstory

Warning(s): Dark themes, Cannibalism mentioned, Blood mentioned, Mrs. Lovett is a yandere, Delusional mindset, Unhealthy + Codependent relationship, Manipulation, Mention of being hanged

How long it took to write: 4 hrs, 30 mins

~~~~~

𝓜𝓻𝓼. 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓽𝓽 set down a plate in front of you, next to your parchment of which your pencil had been scratching on for the last hour. On the plate sat a piping hot fresh meat pie. She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head, watching you intently, waiting for you to take a bite. You glanced at the pie, remembering how horrific the last one she fed you was. Your eyes flicked up to her briefly, expression unreadable. You then returned to your drawing.

She sighed in exasperation, letting her right arm fall to her side. She nudged the plate forward with her index finger. "C'mon, y'haven't eaten a thing all day. Promise this one's good." Nellie's gaze lingered softly on you as she added, "...Put a lot of love int'it, Ms. (L/N)," she added gently to guilt trip you into taking a bite.

You decided to humor her, praying that this one wouldn't do anything too terribly awful to your gag reflexes. Her stare made you uncomfortable as you took a reluctant bite. Lucky for you, this one was decent- delicious, even. You paused your chewing, taking another hesitant look at her. Did she just feed you one of the victims? You had no desire to try human for yourself. Mrs. Lovett quickly shook her head no. "Chicken. It's chicken, I swear it," she promised.

You thought it over momentarily, muttering a "Thank you", then taking another bite. Mrs. Lovett smiled proudly, giving your shoulder a pat. "O'course, love." You had expected her to leave your personal space, but rather, she lingered. She continued to hover beside you like some sort of maid awaiting a command. One more glance from you gave her the hint to leave. She took a hesitant step backwards, murmuring an awkward, "Oh- right." Nellie walked away, throwing one more secret look at you from over her shoulder.

She began to wipe down the counter, cleaning off imaginary crumbs as an excuse to keep an eye on you. She occasionally looked to see your reaction to the pie, you seemed to be enjoying it. Nellie certainly knew the way to a man's heart was through his stomach-...well. She hoped it worked for ladies, too. Mrs. Lovett looked down, pretending to focus on cleaning up the kitchen. She hummed as she worked, all while contemplating her future with you.

The business was running smoothly, and she was worn out by the end of each day from running to the cellar, collecting and chopping the "meat", baking, taking orders, serving, etc. She certainly had her work cut out for her. It would all be worth it, she knew, for one day, she'd live a cozy life with you. Perhaps not like she was imagining, but you and she could get by. The money was certainly piling in with the customers that came every day. Soon, she could finally live comfortably. But she couldn't live comfortably without you. She wished you'd open up eventually.

~Mrs. Lovett is so in love with you that it's disgusting. If she were given the chance to inject your blood into her veins just to feel you closer, to know a part of you is pumping through her to keep her alive, she would. But this wouldn't be enough- she wants to be part of you, as well. If she gained the bravery to do so, she would cut her own hand open to allow her blood to drip into your next meal, watch you eat it, and be satisfied that a part of her was inside of you, connecting you to her by blood.

~Of course, this is all wishful thinking. Mrs. Lovett tries to be somewhat normal with you, while still making it very obvious that she's in love with you. In public, she casts glances at you from the corner of her eye and makes a point of standing close enough to you that people grow suspicious that you may be a couple. She always makes something for you to eat, taking an extra long time on it so it's perfect (note that she can, in fact, cook delicious meals, she was only unable to before because there wasn't money for high-quality ingredients). She checks on you so often that it becomes a chore for you to tell her "I'm fine" multiple times a day, etc.

~Nellie sees herself as being the only person who can tame you. She thinks she needs to gently coax you into opening up to her. She finds ways to manipulate you into thinking that the world is cruel and she's the only warmth you'll find in it. Nellie believes she's the best option for you, and you're the best option for her. You were born for each other, your hearts beat in sync every second of every day, she's sure of it. Mrs. Lovett sings about you, sometimes purposely around you to show off her voice, and so you know that you're the only person on her mind.

~She'll eventually grow very lonely and desperate for you if you deny her for a long period of time. Nellie gets rather touchy-feely with her affection, brushing her hand against yours, kissing your shoulder when she walks by, fixing your hair far more than needed, and giving you a few pet names.

~But, Mrs. Lovett isn't always so lovey and adoring. She's refreshingly cheeky and exasperated. She once pretended to be inconvenienced when she spotted a cut on your hand from your barber shears. She patched you up and scolded you to be more careful, while you sat and humored her, knowing full well you could do it yourself. Nellie is very happy to be taking care of you, even if it's just the smallest opportunity to do so, and even if she plays hard to get about it.

~Somehow, her clingy behavior, the way she looks at you so deeply, and how she's always insisting on planning for the future with you, begins to get into your head and heart. She's such a unique lady, you've really never met anybody like her. Nellie always looks so perfectly disheveled, you've started taking a liking to her messy hair and her cheeky remarks from across the room to fill the silence. She's a quick-witted lady, any suspicions from a customer would result in an easy cover-up explanation from Mrs. Lovett. She works quickly and efficiently in her shop, trotting about to get the work done. All of her strange little personality quirks became home to you. Nellie infuriated you in more ways than one, and really, you wouldn't have it any other way.

~By this point, you and Mrs. Lovett are completely codependent on each other. You couldn't imagine a life without her. This was all her idea, anyway, where would you be without her? Poor and alone, that's where, perhaps even back in prison. The same goes for Mrs. Lovett. She'd continue to be alone in her empty shop without you. She most likely would've gone mad (although, she's gone quite mad already) with her lonesome life.

~Nellie couldn't be more satisfied with the way everything turned out. The business was flourishing, the money was coming in, and she had the love of her life by her side.

𝓜𝓻𝓼. 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓽𝓽 had quite a tiring day. She was busier these days than she had ever been- she was grateful for the customers, but she was undeniably exhausted. Going up and down the steps of the cellar had done a number on her knees, she had been in such a hurry that she'd burned herself on the furnace a few times, and to top it all off, one of the customers had been infuriating. When she finally had time to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea, she'd fallen asleep.

You quietly went down the stairs to the first floor of the building, Nellie's pie shop. You spotted her lounging back on the chaise lounge, the dying fire crackling softly, her tea cold without even a sip of it gone. You reckoned she must've been exhausted, doing most of the work, while you simply stayed upstairs slitting throats and sending them down the chute. You had the easy part of the job, you realized, as you made your way with silent steps over to where she lay.

Nellie felt you coming toward her even in her sleep. She turned her head in your direction and muttered something incomprehensible at you. You didn't respond verbally, but you gained the courage to lean down and give an affectionate peck to the top of her head, your breath gently ruffling her unkempt hair. Mrs. Lovett immediately opened her eyes and looked up at you. She scoffed when she saw that you were walking away. "Y'can't just kiss me an'walk away. Come back, love," she called after you, her voice sounding raspy as she had just woken up.

Mrs. Lovett sat up to make room for you, while you hesitated before walking back to sit by her. She rested her chin on your shoulder, looking up at you with rich dark brown eyes. "Ms. (L/N)," She murmured tenderly, waiting expectantly for you to kiss her lips. "Don't be shy," Nellie added playfully, hoping that you would follow through.

All of her dreams suddenly came true when you cupped her cheek tenderly. She wanted to rush it and kiss you already, after all, she'd been waiting months for this, but she knew it would make the moment far less special if she gave you a hurried kiss. Nellie's eyes fluttered shut, as did yours. You felt her tender lips against yours moments later, your body melting into her like soft butter on warm toast. Neither of you had kissed anybody in years. This felt like a first kiss for both of you, full of adoration and pure unadulterated devotion.

Just as yours had, her body melted, as well, in relief. She was finally kissing you, after so long of daydreaming about it. Nellie softly ran her fingers down your jawline, her other hand busy tracing the back of your soft neck. You could feel her smile against your lips. Once the kiss was broken, she looked up at you sweetly. You caressed her cheek with your knuckles, causing her to lean into your hand as though she had never been touched so gently in her life.

You and Nellie had an unspoken agreement that night. You'd stay together forever, until death do you part- whether from natural causes, or from the noose you'd hang by should society ever find out the secret ingredient in Mrs. Lovett's meat pies.

~~~~~

Request Guidelines!

~Love, PinkBoots

[angelitaby]

yandere!donatello x reader. tw; attempted suicide. themes of obsession, violence and kidnapping. proceed with caution!

“you’ve been sitting here for five minutes, and you haven’t touched your dinner… you should eat."

it takes you a few blinks to come back from your dark headspace of static and noise, but you slowly return back to reality. back to the low light of the lab. his voice was like a bitter taste left on the edge of your tongue, but it awoke you from your self-induced daze.

you tugged at the cuffs on your wrist that kept you restrained to the table. your back facing the silver glow of his lab, the light enveloping you like angels scratching at the skin of your back. he noticed your discomfort at the chains and you swear there was a twitch of a smirk ghosting upon his lips.

“it’s for your own good. i can’t have you trying to run off again, can i?”

he doesn't wait for you to respond before adding, “because then you could get seriously injured! or somehow escape! and what would i do without you?”

you want to scoff, but the dry of your throat doesn't allow you to. so, with a voice full of coarse detest, you muttered out a quick “shut up, donatello,” before regretting how shaky the words snaked out of your mouth.

he doesn't reply, only giving a dry chuckle before returning his gaze to his own desk where he continues to work on God knows what.

tonight he gave you chicken, lined with rice and vegetables that you watched his hand crafted machines chop up just minutes before.

“you should eat up, you’ll need the strength for later.” he doesn't look at you as he says this. but you prefer it that way.

you don’t say anything, glaring at the cold metal that dug into your skin. and you don't dare to touch the food even though your stomach aches and twists like a rope, knawing at you for something to eat.

“i’ll be nicer on you with the experiments tonight if you do.”

you reached your free hand up to your neck and traced your fingers over the bruises and scars across your collarbone, slashes across the bone in bane. you swallowed dry air down your throat before breathing out. "you promise?”

“have i ever lied to you, darling?”

“no… but you’ve misled me.”

“i’ve told you before it was for your own good." he spoke as if he was scolding a child, or more so an experiment than a person, and you hated it.

"i suppose it is only in your nature to despise me now, but you'll understand why i'm doing this eventually."

fat fucking chance.

“but enough of my ramblings. eat, please.”

he gestured to the plate in front of you, the plate accompanied by water in a glass and a cheap fork. and by his tone of voice, you knew his words were a demand rather than a request. still you hesitated before picking up the utensil. 

you could try again.

try to take yourself out by your own accord. though he might punish you for even thinking about it… the risk worth the promise you're not sure he would even keep in the first place.

...he probably wouldn't keep his word either way. you grasped onto the fork tightly, taking a deep breath and pulling your arm back as far as the chains would let you.

and you stabbed yourself right in the throat.

or at least, you tried.

it stung like a brief needle to the skin, and nothing more. absolutely nothing.

it wasn’t even bleeding…

you hopelessly laughed at yourself, dropping the fork and feeling at your neck, begging for a wound. begging for the bitter sweet touch of blood. you hands grasped around your throat as tight as you could, tears threatening to pour out, but there was no more left to cry.

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck!

your head felt heavy and your breathing was short, but it didn't do anything to stop the beating of your heart.

he grabbed you hands, pulling them away from you as he chastised you with a dark glint in his eye that you couldn't quite catch in the moment. “you already tried that on our first night.”

“don’t you remember that the utensils are plastic? you don’t think i'd trust you with metal or wooden ones, do you?”

“..no..”

“it didn’t work the first time. did you really think it would work this time?” 

“...no...”

“you poor, poor thing. we’ll deal with this later.”

we’ll deal with this later... your breathing was harsh at the intentions his words lead to. it was uncomfortable to even blink, you felt a migraine seeping into your head.

"now, eat." you didn't have the energy to fight anymore with your stomach burning your insides at the stake.

you picked up the fork again, hesitating for a moment. but without another word, you began to eat.

the worst thing about donatello, besides your relationship with him, the experiments tested on you for his own sick work of mind... was that the cooking was good. really, really good.

but he would never touch his own work. he would always place a plate of food for you, and never for him.

he told you he didn’t like to eat, he didn’t need to, he claimed. he often didn't sleep, either.

fucking hypocrite.

he watched you with glee, his eyes lighting up like flames shaping burning glass. watching you indulge in the only pleasure you have besides sleep.

he smirked as you struggled to bring the fork to your lips, both from the shackle and from the feeling of past pain.

“is it good?”

you don’t allow him an answer, not indulging him with more than what you're forced to.

you reached for the water and slowly drank. the cold stung your throat with relief and a painful cough.

tomorrow is another day.

you could try again.

[salsakiyoomi]

bakugo isn't a good kisser.

he isn't a bad one either, but he will forever remember how sloppy his first kiss was.

it was like one of those kisses where two kids decide that they're gonna get married when they get older and give eachother flower rings as a declaration of so, and then they press their lips against each other's to seal the promise — it's a sloppy, childish and innocent kiss, one that they would probably forget a few years later, and so the promise of marriage as well.

his first ever kiss was with you — he had reached and agreement between him and himself that, yeah he probably really really liked you and moved out of the denial stage, he didn't say a word about it though, but little did he know that you had noticed how his gaze lingered on you for too long or how his ears turned pink whenever you would tease him — little did bakugo also know was that his feelings were reciprocated.

and so on the eventful evening of his birthday, after everyone tuned out when the party had ended, it must've been sometime around twelve or one am that the two of you were all alone in the kitchen.

"happy birthday, hedgehog." you had teased him, bumping your hips against his, you watched him scoff and roll his eyes but you didn't fail to notice the pink tint on the tips of his ears, "i told you not to call me that." he had said then, crossing his arms over his chest in hopes to tune down the beating of his heart.

"but you're so fun and easy to tease, katsuki." you'd laughed, grinning at him as he turned his face away from you — you took the few steps closer to him so now that your body was almost pressed against his and your hands cupped his cheeks and faced him towards you, "come on now, katsuki, look at me." you'd said softly, still grinning at him as his face warmed beneath your touch.

fuck, well he was looking at you now and his eyes met yours and holy shit he could swear his heart is about to leap out of his chest with you staring at him like that, like you're about to —

your lips pressed against his.

it caught him so off guard that his entire body tensed up, unable to comprehend that you were kissing him right now so much so that his mind felt a little dazed from your touch but he soon relaxed into it.

at the time, it was the best kiss bakugo had ever had — probably because it was the only experience at kissing he had but looking upon it now, he remembers how hasty it was and how his teeth clashed against yours, he also remembered that he didn't wash his teeth after eating that spicy chicken sandwich and he wondered if you could taste it on him, because he could taste the flavour of your favourite cherry lip balm on your lips — he felt the way your lips moved against his into a smile before you pulled away, looking up at him with a flushed face and a sheepish grin, though he couldn't day he looked all that much better himself.

"i'm gonna assume you liked that." you'd said and bakugo didn't miss the hint of uncertainty that laced your voice.

"fuck you."  he'd exclaimed, before pulling you back into another kiss — one that was probably even sloppier than before since you'd laughed and shrieked into it before your lips finally pressed firmly against his, and your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands gripped your waist.

so, bakugo might have been a bit of a bad kisser then, but he sure as hell is a better one now.

or at least, he'd say so about himself judging from the way he leaves you breathless everytime he decides to press his lips against yours.

whatever the case may be, he doesn't mind how sloppy or neat the kiss is, or how wet or heated it may get — as long as it's with you, that is.

and if you were to say he's a bad kisser, well he wouldn't mind practicing with you.

[kiddbegins]

Pretty Please? - Brian 'Otis' Zvonecek

requested: yes <3

word count: 400~

warnings: uh idk it's cute? but also probably sucks?

a/n: this is simply for bff aka @winchesterszvonecek so yeah sorry it's short tho

When they smile mischievously and their dimples appear and you just cannot say 'no' because they are too adorable [otis]

When you started dating Otis you accepted the fact that you wouldn’t see him for 24 hours straight. Or more if he decided to pull in a double. It was put on the table right away and yeah, he worried about it at first. 

That you’d get annoyed when he was gone all that time but honestly you didn’t mind. Knowing that he was out there helping and saving people made it all that much easier. And it's not like you were just, sitting at home the whole time. You also had a job.

But when he was off work, it was all cuddles and dinners at his place or yours. You were alright at cooking and he was, decent, to say the least but you made it work. 

If the food had to be ordered in then so be it, you guys weren’t picky about it. Your personal favorite was that Indian place two blocks down that had the best chicken curry you'd ever had.

But sometimes he really wanted to go out. Have the whole big dinner at a fancy restaurant with candles and dim lighting and such. Make a big deal about it. A proper date night.

And it wasn't that you didn’t want to, because of course you did, but you were a homebody. If you had to say somewhere was a safe haven for you, it would 1000% be either Otis’ or yours. Restaurants felt like hell. 

“Come on,” Otis pouted, arms around your waist as you got ready for work. “Pretty please? We don’t have to go to a fancy restaurant, it can be a smaller one, I just want to go out and show you off.” 

Your eyes caught his in the mirror, a smile growing on his face as he pulled you closer to him. “You can wear that beautiful red dress you have that I am, much a fan of. And I’ll wear that one button up that you really like.” He muttered, kissing your neck lightly. 

“God I can’t say no to you when you smile like that.” You grumbled, turning to face him, the grin still painted on his face. “Alright, we can go. But you have to promise that you’ll wear that teddy bear shirt that I like.” You poked at the dimple that creased into his cheek as you spoke, a vague smile fighting to show on your own face.

He nodded enthusiastically, your arms moving to go over his shoulders. “I swear on my life I will wear that shirt,” Otis spoke quickly, the excitement clear on his face. 

You laughed softly, leaning up to kiss him, one of your hands going to the side of his face and brushing your thumb over his mustache. “Then we have a deal.” A small peck to the nose and you pulled away, “but I still have work, so I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes, yes you will.” 

see, usually i wouldn't post two little things in one day but i fear i'm hyping this up to her too much to not post it right away? so uh yeah, i will most likely be hiding away after this bc none of my other requests are looking inch resting at the momentttt sorry and ily

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

Connor and Gavin Besties Dynamic would include

Connor trying to be the one above the call-outs and banter that Gavin throws at him in the workplace, for the sake of professionalism

but the second he's off the clock it is ON

Connor also being petty at work in retaliation

they have the dynamic of that one tiktok where this guy is cooking fried chicken in the bathroom as he's taking a shower so that his friend wouldn't steal it, and then his friend breaks in with a screwdriver and and still steals it.

Gavin would take a picture of Hank's living room and use it as his background during FaceTime calls

"Hey... hey Connor come here, i need to tell you something."

"I don't trust you."

"No seriously, I promise I'm not gonna do anything it's for the case."

"......Fine... what is it?"

*burps in his face*

"....... I swear to-"

Connor gets one of those ice cream quart padlocks and locks Gavin's ice cream at the precinct

Gavin just saws off the bottom of the container and eats it like that out of spite.

* Connor and Gavin at a bar*

Gavin: you better step down, son, taking this whole thing too far. Hold me back, Connor. I'm serious, hold me back, Connor! I'm seRIOUS HOLD ME BAC-......... why aren't you holding me back?

"Excuse me, Gavin but i have those reports for the Carey case right here for you on my desk."

"I ain't falling for my own joke, tin can."

"No, I am serious. And even if i was trying to pull the same joke, i am incapable of eructation."

"Oh... well okay the-"

T̶̝̳̍͛͜H̷̨̻͕̪̣͗Ę̵̬͔̬̹̄͜ ̵͙̫͇̰̺̗̈́̎̍̅̕F̷̧̼̟̪̱͕̑Į̶̟̖̠̮̈́́Ţ̵̲̯̤̪̄̄N̴̳̍Ẹ̷̅̈́̌̉̊̚͜S̸̨̰͔̿̄̀̿͝S̶̲̳̲̑̌̔ ̸̮̓̇G̵̪͖̥̖̯̈͌̐̿Ṝ̷A̴̧̢͂̊̏̾M̵̟̥̹̥̝̖͒ ̴̧̩̯̿̽͑P̶̮̪̿̌̈̽̋̀Á̸͇̭̈́C̸̩̠̀̇͛͠Ẹ̷̪̱͇̼͊R̶̥̦̫͑́̓̅͗̈́ ̶̩͍͍͓̞̔͌̋̎̓̈́T̸̛̬̟͐̀͛̈́̈Ę̴̜̟̜̹̿̿͗S̵̛̩̝̩͗͊͆̄͛ͅͅT̷͚͒ ̴̗͌ͅI̶͖͒̓́̏S̷̤̞̻̟̅̂̄̎ ̴̨̉̾̐̀͛͋Á̸̝̫̋͑͠ ̷̨̘̠̦͕̅M̶̜̬͍̼̗̬͗̏̊̈͝U̸̫̯̩̬͛͝Ĺ̵̜̼̜̦̀̇̆̕͘T̶͔͉͗̈́Ḯ̴͙S̴̯͙̣͓̫̀̈͜Ṯ̷͎̥͓̌͐̎͑Ą̴̳̖̓͆̀̄̀͜G̷̻̯͎͒̑̉̓E̴̗̭̒ ̷̡̺̮͚̞́̽̈́̈́̕A̴̠̝̿͒͂̕ͅĘ̴̠̮͌̐̒R��̠̼̙̉̒O̸̼͍͗̈́͗̃̃B̵͍͈̪͖͎̔̓̅̇͘͘I̷̝͉̪̍̔C̸̖̘͙̆͗ ̴̣͉̝̳͖͋͜͝Ç̵̨̹͗A̵͉̺̟͇͠ͅP̷̪͕͔̱͙̬̓̄A̶̟͖̯̹͎̒̎C̵͔̮͍͗̂̌͊̿͝Ī̵̤́͊͆̀͊T̷̙͉͖̙͜͝ͅŸ̴̖͈͚̜͓̱́̾ ̷̘͆̂̄͗͝T̶̻̿Ę̷̢̬̔̒S̷͔͙̹̪̉͑̃͌̀Ṭ̵̓̏̅̉-"

Gavin: god I fucking hate that guy, he's such a prick

Coworker: why don't you just stop being friends with him then?

Gavin: FUCK NO! He's already agreed to be my Best Man

*Connor working silently and diligently*

*notices Gavin staring at him from across the bullpen*

"..... what?"

"You're ass is grass and I'm gonna mow it."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Gavin punching in the teeth of xenophobes. Or at the very least cussing them out because no, Gavin, you already have enough write-ups and complaints as it is, you gotta stop it. Yes, i appreciate the intentions, but the means are getting you in trouble.

Old Cop Acquaintance: Last time we hung out you hated androids. You've gotten soft.

Gavin: No, i've gotten hard. Because he's my best friend, he's my pal. My homeboy, my rotten soldier; my sweet cheese, my good time boy

the newer cops in the precinct start spreading a rumor that Gavin and Connor are dating, and when Connor brings it up with Gavin to see if he wants to do anything to dispel the rumors he just says "If you don't have rumors going around that you and your best friend are dating, then you aren't real best friends."

that's basically how Connor realizes that he has a best friend for the first time.

Gavin: Connor, would you ever bail me out of jail?

Connor: Bold of you to assume I'm not in jail with you

Gavin: bro

Connor: Nines would be the one to bail us out of jail.

Gavin: aw fuck, no, come on! Nines would give us the Look of Disappointment

Connor: Better than the Dad of Disapproval

Gavin: fair point

Tactical Training Day is full of chaos because Gavin makes a bet that he'll do better and while Connor doesn't outright agree to it, you can tell he's playing along because he's putting more effort into the simulations than normal.

Gavin: Okay, run it by me one more time. What do you do if i get shot in the field?

Connor: well, I was programmed to immediately get you clear of the line of fire and then provide medical assistance until back-up or an ALS unit arrives.

Gavin: but?

Connor: ...but you've asked me to cry out "MMMMMM WHATCHA SAAYYY!" and then proceed with my protocols.

Gavin: exACTLY

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You hated nothing more than watching Bradley leave for a deployment. But at least this time you knew that as soon as he returned, you would be sliding wedding bands on each other's fingers. 

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

The night before his flight to South Korea, Bradley couldn't shake you for a single minute. You seemed to want him everywhere with you, even to the extent that you asked him to help you cook Marry Me Rooster for dinner.

"Can you turn the oven on?" you asked him as you started to get the chicken ready. "And mix all of the spices up for me?" 

Bradley did as you asked, and then he kissed the back of your neck. "I need to make sure I packed a phone charger," he said, lying so he could get away from you.

"You're coming right back?" you asked, and Bradley melted a little bit inside.

"Yep," he promised before dashing to the bedroom. 

He knelt down on the floor and reached under the bed, pulling out a small box and the paper airplane he had already folded up. He knew he would only have a minute to get everything in order. He opened your nightstand and tucked the paper airplane inside with the box under it. Bradley wished he could have given you the gift in person, but this way you would see that he absolutely intended to fulfill his promise to you.

"Roo?" you called from the kitchen, and he could feel his heart skip a beat for you. He didn't want to leave your side for very long right now, either. 

"Coming, Baby Girl!" 

-------------------------

You were an absolute wreck. It had been getting worse since the Halloween party. And now that Bradley was leaving in the morning, you couldn't stop thinking about his injury from his last deployment. 

So you were perched on his lap at the dining room table while he ate a huge portion of Marry Me Rooster. "This is so good," he groaned, looking at you like the savior of mankind was sitting on his lap, all because you knew how to follow an old recipe. He held out the fork for you to take a bite of chicken, but you just shook your head.

"I'm not hungry."

He set the fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Are you worried about me missing the wedding?"

You shook your head. "No, Bradley. I'm worried about your safety. We can get married whenever." Your voice sounded small and your throat felt tight. 

"I will come back to you over and over again, Baby Girl. Nothing can keep me away."

"I know," you said, and you knew you were going to cry if you didn't get it under control. "I just keep thinking about how you came home last time, and I don't want anything like that to ever happen to you again."

Bradley held you against his chest and let you get your breathing under control. "I will be as careful as I possibly can be. Besides, Jake won't let anything happen to me, because it would upset you."

You started laughing at the truth of that statement. "You're probably right." 

You managed to take a few bites of dinner, but when Bradley tried to clean the kitchen you wouldn't let him.

"I will have plenty of time to clean the house while you're away. I need to get everything ready for my parents to stay with us anyway."

"Oh, hell no. They are not staying here this time," Bradley said, picking you up and carrying you to the couch. He dropped you gently onto your back and climbed on top, rubbing his mustache all over your face and neck.

You laughed and tried to make him stop as you asked, "Oh really? Where do you suggest I tell them to go, then?"

He pinned your hands above your head and nipped at your lips. "I'll get them a room at a five star hotel, but they are not staying here. Especially not on our wedding night."

"Oh," you gasped and then giggled. "I see your point. They did kind of cramp our style last time they stayed here."

"Mmm," he hummed next to your ear. "You are not good at being quiet for Daddy."

You licked your lips. "What? I'm always good for Daddy."

"You're a known brat, Baby Girl. And I fucking love you."

You let him gather you up into his arms and hold you. "Fine," you whispered. "You win. They can stay at a hotel."

"I knew you'd see it my way."

----------------------

Bradley stretched out on the couch with his head in your lap while you played with his hair. His arm dangled lazily over the cushion, and he pet Tramp who was curled up on the floor. 

"It's getting late, Baby Girl," he whispered, not wanting to move, but knowing you would need sleep for work tomorrow after you dropped him and Jake at the airport. "Let's go to bed so you're not tired."

"No, let's stay up longer," you countered. "I can sleep when you're away. Nobody will be constantly prodding me with their penis and wanting my attention for at least a week, if not two."

Bradley looked up at your smirking face. "Yeah, that better not be happening."

"We can go get in bed, Roo, but I'm not ready for sleep yet," you told him softly, turning off the TV and letting him give you a piggyback ride to your bedroom. You had your arms wrapped around him, and your lips were teasing his neck, and Bradley was starting to wonder exactly how many times he was going to have to leave you for deployments. 

He set you down on the side of the bed and turned to stand between your legs. You looked tired and worried in the soft lamp light, but still so perfect to him. 

"This is number four on the year. But really my fifth deployment with you."

You nodded, swallowing hard and you slowly moved to the middle of the bed and reached for him. "I hate them," you whispered as he crawled over to you. "But I love you."

Bradley kissed you, pressing you into the bed with his body weight. Your fingers were in his hair again, holding him to you until you moaned. "I'm going to miss you, Roo."

He pushed your shirt up and eased his hand along your bare breasts, watching your face change to a look of longing. "Next time I see you, Baby Girl, we'll be in the final days before the wedding."

"Please," you begged, pulling your shirt over your head. "Please make it back in time."

Bradley didn't say anything else, his lips too busy tasting all of you, until his face was buried in your pussy. 

"Please, please," you begged softly between gasps, and Bradley was no longer sure what you were begging him for. So he gave you everything. He made you cum on his tongue until you were pulling his hair and pleading with him louder. 

Then he made love to you, his cock buried deep inside until he was filling you up. He cradled your face in his hands and jerked in and out, cumming with your name on his lips.

When he kissed you, you simply whispered, "Please, Bradley. Just come home."

-------------------------

Bradley watched you swiping tears out of your eyes as you got dressed in his old UVA tee shirt and some leggings. You were wearing your glasses and watching him dress in jeans and a black tee for his long flight. 

"Come here," he said, and you shuffled into his arms, breathing him in with your face buried against his chest. "I love you. I'll be home soon. I'll call you if I can."

You nodded against him. "We need to leave," you whispered, your voice shaking. "So we have time to pick up Jake."

"Let's go, Sweetheart." 

You held his hand as he drank a mug of coffee and picked up Tramp for a kiss. You squeezed his hand as he hoisted his duffle bag onto his shoulder. 

"Your car or the Bronco?" he asked once you were leading him down the front steps.

You snorted. "Jake won't fit in my backseat with the bags," you said, leading him toward the Bronco. "But I can't believe you'd have willingly gone in my car, Roo."

"I would do anything for you," you said, tossing his bag into the back and closing the hatch. "Including paying for repairs to that shitty little death trap and riding around in it with you."

Bradley buckled you into the passenger seat, and kissed your nose before hopping in the driver's side and pulling out of the driveway. 

The ride was quiet. You didn't select a playlist, and he hadn't asked you to. You simply laced your fingers with his and occasionally kissed his hand. 

Even Jake joined the two of you with barely a word, but Bradley watched him squeeze your shoulder as he climbed in the back with his duffle. And then the three of you were on the highway, zipping along to a destination he didn't really want to reach. 

But by the time he was pulling up to the curb in front of the International Departures sign, he knew you would be crying when he looked at you. He could simply tell by the way your hand shook in his as he shifted into park and killed the engine.

"Baby Girl," he rasped, and you were already crawling across the seat and into his arms. 

"I love you," you sobbed quietly as your tears met his face where you pressed yourself against him. "Just come back home. Please." He held you so tight, his eyes closed against his own tears as you kissed him all over his face.

Bradley heard Jake open the door and climb out onto the curb, thankful he was giving the two of you some privacy. 

"As soon as I get back, we're getting married, Baby Girl. We'll have our super secret perfect wedding, and then I'll be your husband forever. And you'll be my wife." 

You were smiling and crying at the same time, and it was somehow impossibly beautiful. He straightened out your glasses, and you rested your forehead against his.

"It's going to be perfect," you said. "I can't wait to marry you."

Bradley mashed his lips to yours for a few seconds, memorizing the softness of your skin and the way you smelled. Then he scooped you up and climbed out of his door with you in his arms while Jake grabbed both bags.

When Bradley set you down on the sidewalk, he watched you fling your arms around Jake's neck and bury your face in his shoulder. "You need to come back safely. And you need to bring him with you, okay? Promise."

"I promise, Angel," Jake said, holding you against him. "You call the boys or Nat if you need anything."

"I will," you squeaked, and Bradley watched you place a sweet kiss on Jake's cheek, one that had the other man squeezing his eyes shut. 

And then Bradley knew, whether he liked it or not, he was absolutely stuck with Jake Seresin in his life forever now. Because for some reason you loved him. 

A second later, you were back in Bradley's arms again, your hands grabbing his chest and shoulders while you kissed him a little frantically. He pulled back a bit, taking your face between both hands and saying, "When you get home, check your drawer."

A laugh bubbled out of you. "Okay, Roo. And when you get on your flight, check your phone for some pictures that I'm going to text to you."

"I will, Baby Girl. I love you. More than anything." He kissed you one more time, holding every inch of your body against his before letting you go with his car keys in your hand along with his entire heart.

---------------------

You stood on the sidewalk amidst all of the horns honking and people walking around until you could no longer see Bradley and Jake inside the airport. Then you climbed into the Bronco and pulled slowly into traffic, making your way home to get changed for your half day of work. 

"I'm sorry, but it's just me," you told Tramp when he ran around in circles looking for Bradley. "Daddy will be back in seven to ten business days."

You started to think about what would happen if he missed your wedding date. You'd lose out on a bunch of deposit money for the food, pink champagne and confetti cake you already ordered. But you didn't care about that as much as you did about Bradley and Jake both getting home safely. 

"Oh my god," you gasped, running out of the kitchen and heading for your nightstand. You yanked the drawer open to find another paper airplane and a small jewelry box. He had written Baby Girl on the paper plane, and it looked so much like his tattoo, you squealed as you opened it up. 

Next time I write a note for you, it'll be my wedding vows.

"Bradley!" you screeched into the empty room as you sprawled out on the floor, kicking your feet up into the air. You and he would hopefully be sharing your wedding vows later this month, and you couldn't wait. You carefully folded the paper up so you could add it to his other deployment notes you had stashed away. 

Then you opened the jewelry box to reveal another charm for your necklace. It was a flat, gold disc. But when you pulled it out and flipped it over, your lips parted as you stared at it. 

It was engraved with your wedding date. Twenty three days from now. Bradley had twenty three days to get home and make the date on this charm a reality. You held it in your hand for a moment, rubbing your thumb along the smooth edge before gently placing it back in the box. You didn't think you should add this charm to the other two until he was home. 

You checked the time on your phone and got ready to send him the pictures you had taken the other day while he was in the garage working out. He and Jake were probably boarding their flight now, so you sent the photos you had painstakingly posed for. And then you changed into your uniform for work, trying not to drown in the lonely feeling that seemed to absorb you when Bradley was away.

----------------------------

Bradley had his phone in his hand, ready to scan his electronic boarding pass for the airline gate agent. He should have been paying closer attention, but he and Jake were sipping gross airport coffee and chatting about some of the scant mission details they knew when you texted him.

Bradley was pretty sure both the gate agent and Jake got a good look at your tattoo and your hand covering your pussy as the image flashed on his screen. But when he and Jake strolled down the jetway a moment later, Jake just cleared his throat.

"You know, you can change your phone settings so images stay hidden until you actually open the text," he drawled casually. "I think you should look into that. For all our sake."

"That's good to know," Bradley replied, feeling his cheeks growing warm. You had sent a few more photos, but he was too afraid to take his phone back out of his pocket right now. 

"The two of you are so disgustingly in love, I can't even be mad about it," Jake said, leading the way toward the seats that had been assigned next to each other. Bradley took the window seat and Jake took the aisle seat in the exit row, and they both got settled in. 

"Still can't believe she picked me," Bradley mumbled, finally pulling his phone out. 

Jake snorted. "Nobody can."

Bradley checked his surroundings and turned the screen away from Jake before opening up the first image. 

Yep, it was your tattoo with your left hand and your engagement ring, fingers covering your pussy. The second one was a selfie you must have taken in the shower with soapy tits and a smug grin. And the third one was another of your tattoo with both wedding bands balancing next to it on your hip.

Next time you're home, we'll be sliding these on each other's fingers.

"So, when's the wedding date?" Jake asked casually, stretching his legs out in front of him, and jarring Bradley from his thoughts of you in bed.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "not sure yet. Still working on that."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Both of you are terrible liars. Angel keeps fibbing to me about it. It's cute that she thinks she's crafty."

Bradley scrambled quickly. "We might just go to Vegas next month. Keep it simple."

"There's no way Angel is going to agree to getting married in Vegas in that dress she bought. I'm not buying it," Jake insisted, crossing his arms over his chest while they started to taxi for takeoff.

Bradley quickly texted you back a million heart emojis and told you he loved you and the photos you sent him. Then he put his phone into airplane mode. 

"Wait, you saw the dress?" Bradley asked, even more annoyed now. "How did you see the dress?"

Jake shrugged. "She was showing Nat and Maria pictures on Halloween, and I sweet talked my way into the conversation."

Bradley was quiet for a beat. "What does it look like?"

"Like something you wouldn't wear to Las Vegas for a quickie wedding. So just tell me what you're doing."

Bradley's heart was pounding. He needed some way to throw Jake off. "We're going to Mexico right before Christmas. Eloping there."

Jake just hummed, and Bradley wasn't sure if he sold it or not. But there was no way he was going to give up the real wedding date. You would be so angry if he did.

"Well," Jake replied as the plane took to the air, headed out over the Pacific Ocean. "Looks like I'll be spending the next two weeks planning your bachelor and bachelorette parties. We can have them right when we get back."

Bradley settled back against the seat and closed his eyes, a little afraid of what he had just done. 

-------------------------

At work on Thursday afternoon, your boss informed you that there would be someone from Annapolis interviewing for a spot in your lab the following day. And all you could think about was the last time when you ended up working with Josh for several months. So Friday morning, you dressed and got yourself ready for work, but you made sure you were extra cautious when you sat down at the conference table to meet with this candidate.

"Here's her resume and work history," Bickel told you, handing you a folder. You opened it up and skimmed through the credentials for Lieutenant Catherine Coleman. She was close to your age, originally from Philadelphia, and she had a degree from the Naval Academy in electrical engineering. 

"Why does she want to come to Top Gun?" you wondered out loud. "She's in a prestigious lab at the academy."

"We're about to find out," Bickel said with a shrug, and he stood and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a very determined looking woman. She was petite with dark brown hair and striking features. The way she carried herself reminded you a bit of Phoenix, and you were instantly in awe of her. 

After introductions were made, all of her responses to your questions were quick and thorough. She was impressing you. But you still weren't sold on her. "Lieutenant, why do you want to transfer to North Island? You're in the lab I would want to work in if I were in Annapolis. And your Admirals get massive budgets to work with. Much bigger than ours."

She looked intently at you, studying you for a moment. "The lab is overcrowded, and I like to stand out. I'm also looking to settle somewhere outside of Maryland."

Well, you couldn't argue with that. You also liked to stand out, and leaving Maryland permanently was perhaps one of your greatest achievements. 

"And what would you have to offer us that we don't already have?" you asked, and Bickel leaned forward to hear her answer. 

"A fresh perspective."

-------------------------

As Bradley settled into his bunk on the USS Ronald Reagan after a day of mission prep, he got his phone ready for his allotted twenty minutes of shitty wifi access. Jake was on the bed five feet away about to do the same as it became 1900 hours ship time. They both frantically entered the internet credentials and waited for their phones to load.

"Who are you hoping wrote to you?" Bradley asked, and then he felt kind of like a dick for asking. It just seemed odd to him that Jake was single and not constantly trying to bring girls back to the bunk; that's what Bradley would have been doing before. 

Jake just snorted. "Probably your wife," he drawled. "She always writes to me when I'm away. And maybe Nat or my parents."

Bradley opened up a series of emails from you, scrolling through what you'd been doing at home. You'd sent him a photo of Tramp at the beach and another of you dressed up for a night at the Hard Deck. He saved them both to look at later.

We interviewed someone from Annapolis, and they are going to transfer out next month if they accept the position. 

He was instantly on high alert. Could be another Josh situation.

Don't worry, I'm not working too hard. Only twenty hours per day.

He sincerely hoped you were joking. There was a chance you were not.

Are you still planning on coming to our wedding? Any idea when you'll be back?

He would be flying this mission tomorrow afternoon. It was just him and Jake. They kept changing the parameters, eliminating team members, making it more specialized. Bradley was a little alarmed that they weren't going to be provided with more firepower and backup support, but what did he know? He was only a Lieutenant Commander in a room full of Admirals. 

So he replied to your emails, promising to call you when he could, and sparing you the details of the mission. And then he and Jake both groaned at the same time when the internet cut out. 

"Your wife asked me what she should get you as a wedding gift," Jake drawled as he turned his phone off. 

Was Bradley supposed to get you something? He hadn't even thought about it. He had quite a credit card bill to pay off at the moment, between the honeymoon and all the lingerie you charged to his credit card. "What did you tell her?"

Jake tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the low ceiling. "I told her all men want the same things in life, so she should make you a nice dinner and give you a blowjob. You're welcome."

"That's like a typical Tuesday for me," Bradley replied with a grin. "And Thursday. And Sunday."

"Must be nice," Jake said, his voice a little tense. "Someone who loves you that much and gives you head for no reason? Damn, Bradshaw."

Bradley just closed his eyes and thought about you. "Living the dream. Wait, are you jealous?"

"Of you and Angel? Nah. Probably just need to get laid."

"Just say the word and I'll go to the lounge for a while," Bradley replied. "I don't mind."

"Maybe tomorrow," Jake drawled without enthusiasm.

"Tomorrow's the mission," Bradley replied. 

"Well then maybe a different day."

Bradley just grunted in acknowledgement.

---------------------------

And he's off! Next up is his mission! And I hope he gets back in time! Also, peep Cat Coleman....she's going to be important....

PART 16

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[theroundbartable]

Gaius: to break this curse, you need a true love's kiss

Arthur: oh... Hmm

Gaius: ah, you look like you already have someone in mind

Arthur: I do... It's just...

Gaius: oh, please don't bury that feeling. If you try to-

Arthur: i'm not an idiot, Gaius. A true love's kiss has to be mutual. I'm aware I can't make someone random fall in love with me. It wouldn't work, not while my own heart is... I just don't think they feel the same.

Gaius: ... What is your plan, Sire?

Arthur: Don't tell Merlin anything.

Gaius: merlin?

Arthur: if I want to live, I'll have to make him fall in love with me. If you tell him, you'll ruin my chances.

Gaius: I... What? Merlin?

Arthur: and Gaius, If I die-

Gaius: Sire?

Arthur: swear to me, you won't tell him after my death. And I want him to be honest. If I die, I don't want him to think it's his fault just because his heart wasn't in it.

Gaius: ... Sire, I think you underestimate... You should tell him how you feel

Arthur: that's the plan. I'm just realistic. Even if he did feel the same... He probably still wouldn't tell me. He's been keeping secrets. And I don't think he considers me worthy of the truth yet.

Gaius: you think Merlin keeps secrets from you?

Arthur: really, Gaius? The tavern?

Gaius: ... I don't know what you mean.

Arthur: i've told you everything I know. Remember your promise, Gaius. Don't tell him. Ever. About my bane.

...

At Camlann:

Merlin: Arthur, no!

Arthur: *thinking* I chickened out after all, didn't I? He's crying, and I never even... He could have saved me after all. And here I am, upset about a lie. I don't deserve him. Not him, not his magic, and not...

Arthur: thank you.

[lesbianfring]

Don't mind me, just sitting down here drifting into my own thoughts about how vince and the rest of the brba/bcs writers managed to write gustavo fring in a way so thematically queer and his entire plot line being centred around max's death and his revenge, but to me it's the themes that just hit too close to home.

(I hide in plain sight) as someone who exists in a place where queerness is a crime, this is very much how I live. The double life of chicken man during the day kingpin by the just reads to me as queer allegory.

(look at him, its you're fault) do I need to explain this one at all? If you ever came across religious homophobia you'd be told that your queerness is what doomed you from the start and the harm that comes to you and your loved ones is just a natural consequence of your queerness. I remember being Bearley 16, my first partner being dragged away and into a fate that I'll never know of, and my dad telling me that if anything happens to her, it's my fault, while being pinned to a wall and searched befor entry to conversion therapy, sobbing my eyes out. The hermanos scene was so fucking traumatising to say the least, the desperation in both gus's and max's eyes and the fear that consumes any other emotion or thought, I know it too well. Honestly, I feel like an absolute joke literally having a ptsd flashback because of this scene and then reading that giancarlo said that gus's sexuality is up to interpretation, like am I joke to you or what ? Love this man as much as any fan, but bro, I just rather you'd call me a slur ?

( a bullet to the head would be too humane) There is also the anger, vengeance, and grudge he holds. Though because he is very practical, we rarely get to see this peak through, but it's definitely his greatest motivation. And I dont know how to put this into words, but if had the chance to hurt the people that hurt me and took away my ability to protect someone I promised to protect, I fucking would. He'll I'd set the systems that are built to destroy me a blaze. Though for now, me being alive, breathing, surviving, is its own kind of revenge.

( Hector vs. Gus ) this one is pretty obvious, lone wolf queer swearing off any kind of emotional connection throwing away the last 20 years of his life to avenge the death of his lover, he also expresses masculinity just never in the traditional sence, going against hector who's very much the family guy, his entire existence and power is within his family, the traditional patriarchal image of a man. They literally are opposites in everything. when hector barges into los pollos heramnos, he completely disrespects the place and "immaculates" gus by cleaning his shoes on the desk and smoking inside the restaurant. On the other hand, we see gus smiling after the Salamancas left, knowing that this meant he successfully sabotaged their operation. He won, he's the in dominance, but he won't flaunt it or scream and shout or be an ass hole unless he absolutely needs to, other than that we never see him interested in showing off his muscles to anyone. Of course, unlike hector. He'll shit himself as a show of dominance and masculinity, literally lmao.

I just hope that this shows that Queerness isn't just about sexuality and gender. It literally changes how you interact with the whole world. Whether or not this was intentionally done by the writers, a brilliant conicdance of all these things coming together and making gustavo fring is one of the best queer characters to ever be on the TV screens. I know people will mention the wine bar scene, or the 2 times he stood by the same exact same spot at eladio's pool, or fact that gus never expressed interest in women, etc. But this isn't all there is. TO ME, there is not a reading of Gustavo fring that wouldn't end up reading him as queer, specifically because of the themes listed above. And (up to interpretation) is not good enough and will never be. You don't get to profit off of me watching this getting retrumatised and then acting like it's a total stretch for me to see myself in that. It INFURATES ME honestly relating to this piece of media, that I'm probably not welcomed into the fandom or even seen as reaching far to get to the queer reading of this character, the queer fans deserve so much better than this.

Also, I know when vince and giancarlo would probably be so uncomfortable at the suggestion that gus and max have been lovers i know my bois James Martinez and Peter Gould got my back

Fucking love yall

I hope the next time I hyper fixate on a queer character that they'd be written or played by queer people. I don't think anyone could have played gus better than giancarlo himself, but how hard it is to just acknowledge that it's an integral part of who gus is? I guess it's too much for the P.R. lmao.

[waytoomanyhobbies]

Hi! What’s a song that makes you think of your favorite character or ship from Bob’s Burgers?

@babsvibes

Lol. Well, I already told you the other day how Too Sweet by Hozier makes me think of Logan being Louise's neat whiskey in your:

But I wanna shake things up with two songs that aren't fic dependent but instead make me think of Louigan after reuniting in their 30s and getting together–one would be what they say is their song and the other is their song in private.

Usually, with rivals to lovers ships folks go straight to all the "I hate you, but I love you" tunes. Instead, I want to lean into the way that Logan and Louise are foils who, despite their differences, are actually quite alike.

So the first song is another Hozier tune... From Eden. That's the one they would tell people was their song. Both characters have a history of identifying with criminals, outlaws, etc. So the serpent in the garden is a natural.

The following section, in particular, hits the mark for me:

Babe There's something lonesome about you Something so wholesome about you Get closer to me No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

In the context of Louigan, the verse would be them each recognizing the other's hidden softer side. The pre-chorus would be a longing to cut through their facades of indifference and them expressing their insecurities about if the other really wasn't interested. Finally, the chorus in this context is the recognition of seeing themselves in one another (hence, how they recognized one another's softer sides) as well as the type of baggage they could accrue in the decades before they reunited. They're just both lying in wait to tempt the other. There wouldn't be any "other man" (like in the verse about Adam ) when they reunite, but any time someone asks how they got together, they make up a different outrageous story. Like an anthology episode.

That brings us to Louise and Logan's secret song, the one they would cuddle and canoodle to–but vehemently deny in public. Mirrors by Justin Timberlake.

I don't wanna lose you now I'm lookin' right at the other half of me The vacancy that sat in my heart Is a space that now you hold Show me how to fight for now And I'll tell you, baby, it was easy Comin' back here to you once I figured it out You were right here all along It's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me I couldn't get any bigger With anyone else beside me And now it's clear as this promise That we're making Two reflections into one Cause it's like you're my mirror My mirror staring back at me, staring back at me

I mean we have this girl:

A girl who knows every lyric that Boo Boo and Boys 4 Now ever sang.

And she's paired with this boy:

A boy who gets super emotional over Freaky Friday and its messages about love and acceptance.

Together, they would secretly enjoy the most poppy, peppy songs about true love and finding your other half–the person who gets that part of you that others don't understand or find too extreme for comfort. That's a kind of understanding and acceptance Louise seems to yearn for from Spiderhouse Rules, and it matches Logan's vibe from Mother Daughter Laser Razor beautifully.

I can picture the two of them cuddling to the song:

Louise: "I swear, if you ever tell anyone this is really our song, I will gut punch you!"

Logan (laughing): "Hey! I have a reputation to protect too, you know?"

Louise (snorts:) "If you say so."

Logan: "Besides, I know you're too chicken to dance to this at the wedding reception..."

Louise (warning): "Logan."

Logan: "And since when is big spoon supposed to be threatening little spoon? You're supposed to be making me feel safe and cherished."

Louise (hugging him tighter): "Fine. If the leftover pizza starts threatening you, I've got my bow and arrows in the closet."

Logan: "Thank you."